Buzzing of the Bees

Through the spacious garden,

Roams a little bee.

Buzzing, flying, on the wind,

Beholds a sight to see.

…

Sees a nearby home collapsed,

Sees rotting wood and doors.

Sees balcony and empty chairs,

Nearby it sees much more.

…

A city, now completely empty,

Vehicles deserted too.

Not a word, no sign of warning,

Nothing they could do.

…

The bee remembers something else,

Memory, within its genes.

A time where its kind buzzed much more,

Buzzed before royalty.

…

But some things are now long gone,

And buzzes, the bee still.

This world, at last, now harvested,

A world that now lies still.