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Tell me how Many more Petals should Fall

k1nOfficial

"A reflection poem for a man seeking himself."

Bees have found their pond of nectar at the greenery of Mr. Alfred's patio

Wings flapping controllably until their roving eyes saw some perfect view

Proboscis sucking each flower's nectar they grow liking

That has long been bloomed by the morning dews

These beauties roamed the day like some pebbles found strayed in the rivers 

Some were round; some weren't; some hid quarts and gems; some don't

Some were clothed with algae; some barely have colors

Bees were like shapeless pebbles but all play vital roles and beauty

Swarm of bees danced the day like each one of them was a mountain dressed in heavy fogs and clouds 

However, one bee was lost in its reverie and fell away from the rest 

She hasn't had any thought she was perhaps lost 

For above the rocks, so unlikely from where her eyes should be fixed, a flower whispered her "hello"

She flew and flew; having herself distanced from the swamp even more

But she was not lost in her dedication to get in touch with the lonely flower

She got closer and what she witnessed broke her heart

"You aren't a dandelion, but why are your petals leaving your embrace?"

She did not whisper those words however she sang them

November air was not still that day; her words were delivered throughout the woods 

"They treated me just a vessel of many petals"

The bee found a sweet place to rest on a rock nearby and on it she stayed seated 

"But are you not a flower, really? What different are you from a flower and a vessel?"

"I am home of many petals; but each time creatures fell gaze on me, they take each petal that I have away"

"Oh, that is sad, but I will not be taking your last petal", she said back, wings flapping

"There is no different, with petals or none, the next few hours I will be gone"

The bee was saddened with what she just heard, "Then I will help you live again"

Not a second did the bee lost her courage to take care of the flower with her last petal

Her eyes were fully watching the graceful embrace of November air on the remaining petal of her newly-found friend

So was the flower, it died instantly as its last petal flew from her hugs 

She realized, she got lost from her own swamp in her dedication to chase the fragrance of a flower; that was now gone

She remembered her words for the departed flower

Countless of seeds were intact on the head of the dead flower

She flew a distance away and, in a go, she stricken head first the flower for the countless of its seeds to fall

One- Four- numerous of them fell on the ground 

One seed did not make it and got stuck on a tree branch below the mountain

Many of them gone onto the bed of rocks, striking the flower won't guarantee them seeds to grow

Improvising, she did not strike again the head of the flower

She was carefully taking them with her small hands, one-by-one, and put them on a bed of soil she saw nearby

Days has passed, the clouds have been changing shapes above

Once upon a time, a cloudy morning was vanished and outside shone the mighty sun

The bee woke up with a smile always plastered in her heart

She strolled the rocky mountain and her stride was towards the field where the seeds were planted

What was seen by her eyes was a sparkling picture of many sprouts

", the seeds are going to be the sons and daughters of her old friend

Her weariness flew away from her, seeing the fruit of her labor and dedication

Each sprout will give her the paradise she can retire to

The first fragrance so alike from her late friend touched her nostrils She eyed where it came from; the bed of them once a seed, now was a land of beautiful, alive lilies The bee flew and flew, her body was dancing along her every sniff of the heavenly smell

The bee fell asleep on top of the largest Lily

The flowers were thankful and prideful of their mother, the lone bee

They started chanting and singing, offering their smell to the air of December

And later, a swarm of bees alike to the lone 

 found its way to the field They were rouges They did not have any queen to foster them

On her view were hundreds of bees swarming her sown flowers

They were giving honor for their newly found queen

The lone bee must have been destined to get away from her own swamp; to become the queen of these

And the newly found queen was now going to find her rest

And rule the swamp that just found its home in her

The sparkle in the ambiance on that field was like redamancy

And the sun was the witness and bearer of the news 

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