for the love of things

little bee on the rose bush
may you smell the sweet scent of the flower
never forget this flower in which it will come back
when you leave the field in which you fly around
you go around trying to find that one you found that day
but all you see is grey
its never coming back to you
it lost its scent at summers end
now its winter and you try to stay alive
that rose bud is all you think about
just hope for the sun
and maybe you will smell that scent once again
not in dream or a fairy tale
just for the scent you would die a thousand times over
you wait in the cold where you found it
but the sun never comes
summers dew runs through the field of dreams
the winters cold is gone
flowers blooms
and those roses come back to life
but the bee has died waiting for the flower
the poor bieng lies beside the rose bush its dying wish
for that sweet scent
now rose red buds lay on its grave
that is love for beauty
and not for entertainment of others