To You

Written by: David Smalling

If I were you I would come home
O little bee your flower is too far
And more dry the farther you roam
Its burning gas what seem a star

I would replace you who abandoned
Home, but wasps build everywhere
Nor, unproven, did I say I pardoned
The honey job, the rancid beer

A bee must be allowed to be a bee
And for wax comb endure the stings
Or drink the honey ere die the tree
From which flower nectar it brings

Why do I call a bee without a name
Who cannot see the kites I fly
Who thinks all flowers are the same
What drone so hurry so to die?