The bud has sprung
Like a newborn fetus
Now the bees have stung
Saying it is here to treat us
Colors like mahogany,pink and blue
The little one who grew
Days have gone by
The butterflies saying goodbye
To the little flower,about to dry
The bees mourning at loss of the flower
The little one who lost its power
Oh you were an apple of my eye!
Said the little girl and you are about to die.
A hundred years should go in praise
Where you find the warm sun rays.