In this small box, my love,
you’ll not find a ring,
but instead, a brave, little bee.
He’ll be dead by morn, having given his life
defending his flowers against me.
I felt his stingwhile picking the small, purple pansies
growing wild along the roadside,
in hopes of an afternoon bouquet for you.
And I grieved the sting,more for him than me,
knowing full well the price he paid
for my small pain.
And I allowed him his victory,
leaving his flowers as a memory,
and brought you insteadthis brave, little bee,who proves there is love
even in the smallestof things.—Lowell Parker
Sorry if my last entry didn't make alot sense... was busy!
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