Laments of a Tiny Bee

The little flower was

Neither beautiful nor big nor fragrant

But it was white..indeed purely genuinely white

There were no bees

Big, small or white hovering around

It was alone but happy

Happy that it was white though small

Happy that it was unnoticed

Until I saw it one day...swinging happily to itself...

I asked the little one

"Do you have some honey for me "

"I have a little...too little to give"

" I need only little ...but it has to be pure "

"Yes... you can take ...but my petals are white... do not dirty them"

I kept sucking honey from my little one daily,

The honey was indeed pure,

purest that I had ever had,

One day, tired I was after the day's work,

"Shall I rest on your petals... Dear "

I asked my little one

It did not node...but silence for me was affirmative

Alas.....there was dirt on my foot which I forgot to wash

My little one was dirty,

It was now neither beautiful nor big nor fragrant nor white

I had robbed my little one of it's pride in purity,

I affronted its dignity by my rude divestment,

But I was not wild....

I tried to clean it with hands and tears

But, dirt on white is difficult to clean

At last it rained...cleaning up everything that I had dirtied,

My little one was whiter, purer than ever before

Decorated with the little beads of rain...

Ready for a feast...feast for all....

Courtesy Of Idea : Vavakutty