Flowers and Bees
Often I find myself wandering
into the pathway of sweet apple-blossom trees,
watching petals flutter to the ground.
I look at the flowers with
envy and longing,
wishing to pluck one off
and stick in my hair,
its beauty overcoming my curls
ad shining like a diamond among coal.
But right when my hand reaches for
a limb of the tree,
a bee buzzes angrily and flies towards me
with jealousy evident in its wings.
I yank my hand back,
watching as it hums away
and wonder if my wish is worth it.
And as I watch more petals fall onto my clothes,
I find my feet moving towards the safety of my home,
fear overcoming desire.
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