Butterwort Poems | Examples

The Queen Bee and the Withered Bloom

I open my eyes, and she is gone.

I was the flower, and you, the queen bee.
Though I promised sweeter nectar, richer and deep,
You grew restless, leaving my petals to weep.
Suddenly a bird, you took to the breeze,
Soaring away, far above the trees.

I close my eyes, and she appears.

A grand eagle, slicing through the gale,
While I, a mere cloud, send a scent so frail,
Chasing your shadow, a never-ending trail.

Now, she is nowhere to be seen.

I drift into a dream once more.
Seeking new blossoms to claim and disown,
You are still a queen upon your throne.

'When those other flowers wither and die,
To another garden, you will surely fly.'

So I shall bloom no more.
A flower already withered at the core.

Let spring, summer, autumn, and winter roll by—
My petals will never again greet the sky.

Yet remember this, before your journey is done:
Your final stop, under the dying sun,
Will be the jaws of the butterwort flower—
Trapped in the carnivore's silent power.