Flowers and the Bee

flower
-e.webb

A head of beauty, parts of velvet many, 
sit in a pallet no match by any,
top sat of stem , in a pattered natural symmetry,

A present to eyes whom see, 
not on a man but that of a bumble bee,
humming in mumble never seen to rest,
always busy shown by the swells,
on legs that carry a body fuzzy,
on Disproportioned wings, 
work to make sweet honey.

Sat in route anchor only swaying on a breeze,
It's like you are waving
 to distract the working buzzing bees,

Cunning is your beauty to hide a Bee its job,
Employee of you Unwitting,
Is this pollinators job,

When they rummage petals in hunt
 the dusting not noticed on top,
They're far too busy to stop their work,
as they complete yours , each hop to hop,
Unknowing as they sip your nectar,
They pay with the transports that sit on top,

Unfortunately your beauty too has a response to you as death
As the hand of a Wanting Eye,
picks your head And from earth your cleft