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Three Little Bumblebees
Three little bumblebees buzzing along.
To savor the day, what could go wrong?
Prancing and dancing in their graceful flight
At such great height.
At last they arrive, at their hive, where they belong.
The buzzing of all the bees, what a song!
Inside all the bees are working, everything is alright.
Honey oozing, a great delight.
All the bumblebees work very hard,
For their hive, so they can thrive,
They keep up their guard.
If they must, they will sting.
A bee sting is a very painful thing.
Not just the victim, the bee is now scarred.
All just because he flew into the wrong yard.
Slowly, the teeny bee stops flapping his wing.
The first bee sting of spring.

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"The worst thing a guy can do is make a girl fall for him when he has no intention of catching her" -unknown.
I found the last three lines sad, for it managed to squeeze a small 'aww,' out of me. And normally I don't like bees, but then again, I never really gave thought for the bugs, well, except for that time when someone swatted a bee in French class. Poor thing just laid on the floor, unable to stand up. At that time I felt bad for it and thought that the best thing we could do for the bee was put it out of its misery, though, I really didn't want the thing killed, but he was suffering.
Maybe it's just me, but as I read your poem, I imagined the little bees bustling around a dandelion, rolling in the yellow pollen. A big yellow-ish hive hanging off a branch somewhere in the woods and a few bees flying in circles around it... But then I start thinking of Winnie the Pooh...