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Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2009 2:45 pm
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Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2009 2:53 pm
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Posted: Thu Nov 19, 2009 2:58 pm
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The Bee © Alexander The flapping of it's wings similar to a fly, But when listening carefully you can hear the droning reply.
Once heard you immediately know it's purpose, Yellow flowers, black flowers - collecting pollen to surplus.
Buzzing flower to flower, Flying aimlessly through the sky. People may be reluctant to admit, There is more than meets the eye.
It holds the pollen close to it's chest like a baby. It's pride, passion, life - even more maybe.
Though there comes a time when life must end. Sting, buzzing, silence. But before this it must go through what we cannot comprehend. Organs torn, it carries on - Flower to flower. Weaker and weaker. Dead before long
The yellow for pollen and honey, The black for sting and bulbous eyes. These are the colours that represent, The bee's striped lines of life and death.
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