honey

i could be the bee
visiting your flower

in the light of honey
nesting among the wood's pillars,
amid the soft sound of rain
bathing your petals
with tender care

your pollen were my ambrosia
a load of fine silver
gathered from gossamer threads
in the stillness of dawn

i would be the bee
curling in your flower
holding hands with your roots
as you hold my wings

i would be the bee
returning to the comb and your flower
a taste of moonlight
in my flight


(for D.)