The Bluebird and the Bee

A stray little buzzing bee whispered into my ear,
this morning under the blazing September sun,
that your eyes had wandered my way
that my face had captured your heart.

But as the bee, as the messenger, flew to a flower,
I was left neither smitten nor enchanted;
my head was not foggy, my legs had not quivered,
my mind just wondered what this could all mean.

And I told a beautiful little blue bird to
take a message to you and deliver it by sunset
and on his wings I wrote with shimmering dew
the requisite for my love, the way in.

And the message was:

“I am not a wildflower that falls easily after a storm,
I am a great strong blooming oak tree on fertile land.
I am not a common Daisy, the same as all,
I am the rarest orchid, the rarest of all.

You may want to throw your nets at my waters
but my springs do not give easy access to mere fishermen.
You may trust that your beauty and charms are winners
I might as well be blind, I will not pay them attention.

Call me old-fashioned, excentric, unrefined
but a man cannot simply buy my heart, he has to win it,
he has to chafe his skin on the ground that I walk on
because I am not a prize that is easily obtained.

Read me poetry beneath a tree that showers petals on us
and describe the landscapes with my beauty,
make me blush, smile, cry and want all at once
and I shall start to succumb to you attention.”

And the stray little buzzing bee came quickly that night
heavy with your message, one I needed to hear.
And the beautiful blue bird came flying behind,
on his wings your words a response to my plea.

And the message was:

“Imagine my love, I am understanding you perfectly;
a well of whispers is what you are to me
I will throw my pennies at your heels,
and pray for you to share your thoughts with this mere mortal.

For you are the rarest of orchids, the rarest of all,
and the spring waters wish to have your sweetness.
I will plant my hopes in your smiles and your tears
and drink all of your laughter for a second of your attention.”

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