Spring flowers

A Poem by

The red-buds call to the bluebell flowers below,
'make haste make haste the time has come,
I can hear the honey bees' hum,
let us all put on a good show'.

The bluebells, being blossoms of late spring,
that honey bees haven't yet plundered,
ignorantly innocently wondered;
how can one be ready for such a thing.

Then shyly looking down, softly speak,
'Oh the shame we just cant bear,
of letting strangers come so near,
that too, knowing what they seek'.

'How can we invite them inside?
and let them reach so deep and so far,
so many of them hungry for nectar,
that we will have nothing left to hide'.

For a moment; a redbud turns a sage,
and explain them that this is the way they live,
to survive and exist they must give,
then shouts in a tone of mocking outrage,

'Look at you, I am ashamed to call you ours,
how ever did you get such silly thought?
ask even the bashful Forget-Me-Not,
a bee is never a stranger to the flowers'.