article by Frances from Ferniegair

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Battle in Barncluthe

Hunts like hell.
Over fresh fields, dawn till dusk.
Needs sweet, tasting nectar.
Eventide cometh, returns eight.
Yondre hive.

Been caressing, buzzing between,
Every flowers petal.
Extracting elixir for, his queen.

Ah! Fingers about to pluck this flower, he stings.
Now he pays natures price.
Death cometh soon.

The hand now hold the rose, that.
Heralds this bee a friend.
Enraged, in darkest pink.

Revenge of the flower was so that.
Once and once more.
Soaked its thorns, with flowing blood.
Ever sweet the honey not so sweet a rose.

Frances

Webmaster replies

Nice ending Frances, especially the last line.  What do other people think?  Contact us and tell us know.