The Beauty of Giving

  

Amidst the verdant field, a flower blooms,

Its petals, radiant with a beauty that looms,

But alas! It is never left in peace,

Disturbed by bees and beetles without cease.

 

"Take away my fragrance, take away my grace,"

Whispered the flower in a silent embrace,

"For I am tired of being a source of delight,

Only to be ravaged by creatures day and night."

 

The flower's fate, a bitter pill to swallow,

As its beauty wanes, no more bees to follow.

No beetles, no swarms, left all alone,

Forlorn, it stands, with petals all flown.

 

The once-fragrant flower now feels bereft,

As no one notices it with a single breath,

Its petals droop, its colours fade,

And it wonders if it made a mistake.

 

The flower stands tall and unafraid,

Its colours bright, its fragrance a cascade,

Welcoming bees and beetles with glee,

For beauty shared is a gift, given free.