"Loss of Value” by Wolf Gaidis
The bumblebee used to love the flowers.
Their smells and tastes gave him power.
He'd buzz on and on, here to there,
Carrying honey, and pollen to share.
He'd get drunk off nothing but the fumes,
The colors of petals like silk from looms.
The nectar sweeter than even his honey,
Gold and pure, bright as if sunny.
A warmth of love filled head and soul,
His mind and heart forever stole.
Or so he thought, until one day
When a toxic pollen flowed his way.
The flowers were no longer sweet.
The nectar once golden, now tar and peat.
The pedals that once had been so clear,
Now, not ever, could he go near.
The bumblebee no longer buzzed,
And all his being lost what it was.
An essence pure as honeyed gold,
Had once and for all been forced to fold.
Saddened and lost forevermore,
He shuddered cold down to his core.
That toxic pollen did not go away.
And the bee remains silent, to this day.
The bumblebee used to love the flowers.
Their smells and tastes gave him power.
He'd buzz on and on, here to there,
Carrying honey, and pollen to share.
He'd get drunk off nothing but the fumes,
The colors of petals like silk from looms.
The nectar sweeter than even his honey,
Gold and pure, bright as if sunny.
A warmth of love filled head and soul,
His mind and heart forever stole.
Or so he thought, until one day
When a toxic pollen flowed his way.
The flowers were no longer sweet.
The nectar once golden, now tar and peat.
The pedals that once had been so clear,
Now, not ever, could he go near.
The bumblebee no longer buzzed,
And all his being lost what it was.
An essence pure as honeyed gold,
Had once and for all been forced to fold.
Saddened and lost forevermore,
He shuddered cold down to his core.
That toxic pollen did not go away.
And the bee remains silent, to this day.