The Honey Bee

A curious bee, that's me,
I can flit around aimlessly,
But mostly I'm your friendly
neighborhood honey bee.

I love the whiff of pollen
from a flower fresh as can be,
The thrill of the dive and exhilaration
When I find that perfect blossom all rosie.

Ah to sip that nectar divine,
And turn it to sweet honey
The sun smiles ever sweetly,
on the good ole bee colony.

We all fly, and sip and dine,
all the while making sweet honey
But lately I've grown a conscience you see,
a rather strange thing for a good ole honey bee.

My wings were wet and I soaked in the rain,
for a while as it may be
No sips of nectar or whiffs of pollen,
all that while were there for me.

Now I fly my buzzing flight,
humming 'I'm a good ole honey bee!'
And I chance upon a rosied bloom
singing 'Honey bee, come to me!'

I think a thought and tell myself,
'What a nice place to be'
I should dive right in and help myself
to those cups of nectar, oh so tastee.

And then it pops, this little thought,
'I'm not carrying any pollen for dear rosie'
So do I dive right in for that nectar so swee',
or should I gather some pollen first for dear lil rosie?

To be or not to bee,
that's quite a question you see
To weigh on the mind
of a curious little honey bee!

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