My Poetry


Upon a summer early morn,
The sun dazzling like gemstones through the trees,
It’s warming glow follows the chill of dawn,
I hear the forest whisper in the gentle breeze.

When from the corner of my eye,
Upon a thicket I did see,
A spider’s web adorned with dew,
Thereupon a struggling honey bee!

Excuse me sir! To my surprise,
The little worker bee did say,
Might you assist with my predicament?
Before I become the spiders prey.

Why certainly mam! I’d be happy to,
As I gently set her free,
And sat upon the dampened ground,
To rest her perched upon my knee.

She fanned her wings, Why thank you sir,
Your reward it shall be great,
I bestow on you my treasure trove of gold,
But a short while you must wait!

While Her words still echoed she was gone,
Busily buzzing about her way,
I pondered though what she had said,
In anticipation of that day.

Upon the summer seasons end,
I duly raised my roof and board,
To see frame upon frame of glistening golden comb
The little honey bees reward!

Paul Vagg 22/3/2015
copyright Paul Vagg