In fields of gold, he tends with glee,
A beekeeper high, lost in his dream,
With honeyed thoughts, he hums a spree.
He twists the hive, all stung with glee,
“Here is my garden,” he starts to beam,
In fields of gold, he tends with glee.
He talks to bees, “You all agree?”
They buzz and dance, a sticky scheme,
With honeyed thoughts, he hums a spree.
He slips on wax, “Oh, what a spree!”
As bees swarm round, they plot and scheme,
In fields of gold, he tends with glee.
He thinks he’s posed like a movie bee,
Yet stumbles back, his buzz a meme;
With honeyed thoughts, he hums a spree.
But at the end, amidst the spree,
He harvests laughter, not just cream,
In fields of gold, he tends with glee,
With honeyed thoughts, he hums a spree.
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
