The Afternoon of the Bee
By shomi
The wind waits the hours the sleeping scents of flowers the midday white of the panes waits its show of blue again unaware or that snore beating wing sting and more till a kind soul on watch squashed a tiger lily blotch to honey the clammy web. what poppies hide and roses feign what vines dole out in sweet disdain all end in an afternoon buzz. Written November 7th, 2001 © on Nov 06 2001 03:38 PM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"The wind waits the hours..."