Upon the hive, he sways like bees in flight,
With smoke in lungs, and honey in his dreams,
His suit is on, but oh, what a sight!
He stumbles forth, convinced he’s quite the sight,
The buzzing choir hums, or so it seems,
Just flying high, with bees that feel so right.
He thinks he’s one with bees, that grand delight,
They dance in circles, plotting funky schemes,
In golden glow, he sways, oh what a sight!
But then a bee, with ire, takes a bite,
A shot of pain—to help him trace the themes—
His thoughts collide like flowers, what a fright!
He drops the honey, muttering “That’s not bright!”
And finds his joy, the buzzing still redeems,
With clouds above, and pollen that’s in sight.
So heed this tale of zest, and not of plight,
Beekeeping high? Just watch your sticky dreams!
Upon the hive, he sways like bees in flight,
His suit is on, but oh, what a sight!
Hazy Humor is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0
