Monday, 24 November 2014

The wasted honey combs

At the end of the rainbow
I met them
Hanging on to a thin film
Of hope or despair?

The hard wind
Shattered their home.
Their hours of labour,
Building blocks in white
Lay exhausted,
On the green grass below.

Trust never fails
Perseverance pays
They build the hive again
Buzzing busily as ever

As to their razed home,
The wasted honey combs
Lay oozing nectar
On the thin blades of grass
And fed the little brown birds
Serenading songs of joy.



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