It blooms once a month.
Sometimes twice, roll the dice.
See whose bell will tole.
I know a bird that sings in the trees.
All she sees. The bees do plea.
She beats her wings and screams and flees.
Only exhaustion does she bring.
Shadows up above the trees.
The bees do see.
The bees do see.
The law has come. Their winning blow..
No comments:
Post a Comment