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Life may be all but your own private stream

To drink whenever we can at our leisure

Hopefully, we get to experience plea-shore

Working so very hard to pretend

Life has meaning, but it also must end

Because if we’re always attached

To assigning this splenderour batch

Of flowers so numerous names

What is the point of thier glorious fame?

Because together they make a bouquet

So fragrant, it drives bees to sway

And they dance to the rhythm

Of the swaying breeze

They swing like the monkeys

With the greatest of ease

From each stem and leaf

To each petal too

Admiring their abundance

To make their honey dew