Wind blows through my thread thin hair, as I to from weed to weed, gathering pollen.
I see walkers crossing the oversized bridge everyday, and wonder if I will ever be able
to see the sights from that high. But I am only a simple honey bee, I know that but it
will never stop my dreams of picking up weeds and flowers for my own delight;
and not honey, my only fright. I can only pray every night to be better than what I already
am. To allow my wings to spread, and my self to bloom from the flower bud I am today,
but my dream of being better will never come true. I look at my self as a diamond
in the rough... though I am only a pebble amongst boulders never to be noticed. But
some day I will have to realize that I will never be what I want to be; even if I am
amazing the way I am now. I will always be a bee buzzing through the trees, never a
giant bee picking flowers only for me.