Nature

The nose 

smells the sweet rose 

My eyes 

See the wings 

Of the bee that flies 

And produce the rings 

Through my ears 

The wind blowing I hear 

I feel the pain 

Of the thorns 

As well the texture

Of the yellows corns 

the apples and pears I taste 

The chillies I take out of my mouth in haste 

The sweetness the apple bores 

We remove the seeds at the very cores 

They all have a signature 

Known very well as our nature