The Flowing Nectar Of The Rose

The bee may kiss the petaled face
Of any bloom bathed in the sun
As every rose smiles in her place.

Nectar gathered, left not a trace,
So, every honey drop is won;
The bee may kiss the petaled face.

She contributes an air of grace
Betwixt the thorns that she may shun
As every rose smiles in her place.

And still the bee may essence chase
Until a honeycomb is spun:
The bee may kiss the petaled face.

So, where the leafy stems embrace,
At daytime's end  ~ when light is done,
As every rose smiles in her place.

But not the darkness can erase
The flora, fauna, way things run,
The bee may kiss the petaled face
As every rose smiles in her place.