Bee Hive
In the arid grasp of a withered plant,
The hive appears forlorn, its dryness stark,
Yet within lies the nectar all relish and want,
Nourishing sustenance, a feast to embark.
A facade of chaff and wax, so unassuming,
A fragrant lure that entices the birds,
They gather eagerly, their beaks consuming,
Sputtering and squawking, their appetites spurred.
Satiated and vibrant, they clumsily take flight,
Leaving behind a fragrance that lingers in air,
Other creatures in spiral attraction alight,
Drawn to the honey, sticky and rare.
The bees, encouraging, they dance and they sway,
Surrounding the hive with a sense of calm,
Fire and vermin repelled, kept at bay,
As bees collect honey, sweet and warm.
But hidden within this cycle of bliss,
A web of relationships harbors deceit,
Surprising is the hive's ultimate abyss,
Its destruction revealed, a bitter defeat.
Confusion befalls the bee, homeless and lost,
Just like my love, once steady and pure,
Shattered illusions, a heart tempest-tossed,
Leaving emptiness, a love insecure.
Copyright © Charles Okechukwu | Year Posted 2023
|