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Posted by MFish

Of all the things that I see,
There is nothing like a Honey Bee.
A bee that toils for hours and hours,
While flying about to blossoms and flowers.
The packets on his tiny legs,
Accumulates the pollen that he drags,
From flower and blossom, flittering there
And returning to his hive, with great care.
The pollen is transformed into golden honey.
Late in the Fall, it will be sold for money.
The Honey Bee has something to dread
If it stings, it will soon be dead.
For unlike a Hornet or a Wasp
The bee's stinger is barbed and lost
When it stings to protect the hive
And the cost is it's life.

A waft of smoke
from the small fire,
with intense heat,
stoking a new desire,
to live once more,
under the bright star
and to be the man
you know you are.

Sitting around a campfire at night
the front of you is warm.
Your back is cold as ice.
Telling stories of days gone by;
embellishing as needed
to maintain the lie.

There is no comfort
in sitting here,
unless of course
the cold will disappear.

The song you sang,
I've heard before.
About a lost love,
not here anymore.
I know not of love.
I'll say it once more,
for my personal feelings
lay on the floor.
No feeling of despair .
No feeling of loss.
No feeling to care
about another person.
It's not for me
or the pain in my heart.
It is still there with thee
as my soul tears apart.

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