'Honeybees'

Learn more about other poetry terms

Please save our bees, Their honey helps us, when throats are sore. We need more, Honey is the cure.   The liquid is a yummy gold. Lots of it gets sold. The treasure of the bees
The Queen Bee like Gaia, Is mother to all  But is betrayed like Caesar, By her innumerable children.   Her long Nyx abdomen, That luster and glows like a lantern Her moon pale long legs
Five to seven weeks I’m hoping for past 80 years for me Designed with a purposed I had to find my own   Five to seven weeks
Subscribe to 'Honeybees'