The Honey Bee: A Poem

How nice to be a honey bee,

Flying the world fast and free.

Buzzing high through trees and towers,

Drinking delights from summer flowers.

 

But things aren’t always as they seem,

His life not just a happy dream.

His orders come from high above,

Made to work and not to love.

For in the hive, there lies unseen,

His Mistress there, the honey Queen.

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