I would give up a day of my life
to go where the bee goes.
To sip the nectar of milk thistle,
hear the sigh of petals stirring
as the cluster welcomes me
to sink within its pollen.
I need to taste the virgin wine
but daylight dims.
The approaching night
and a mockingbird plan my demise.
My wings risk the gamble
as I powder myself in clouds of dust
to fly, to fly...
I hear the Queen singing,
come back Apis Mellifera,
don't bend to the assassin.
And I race away enraptured
to set my gift before the throne.
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