The bees of Brazil
Their there still
Still the bees
And still the Brazil.

But should they grow ill
The bees of Brazil
Should they grow ill
They'd no longer fulfill
They'd all just be nil.

There'd be no more hunny
It wouldn't be funny
There'd be no more money
It wouldn't be too sunny... anymore.

But today - anyway
They still take their fill
The bees of Brazil
They go where they will
... Until

i.

Albeit I'm here
And thou art there;
Many mile's from eachother
Yet still ourn endearment shalt not decrease.

ii.

I am thine own
Thou art mine;
No need to worry mine darling
I'm thine own forever, not a lease.

iii.

Agone juncture's
Of mine second's and minute's of sorrow's;
Art now gone mine treasure
Looketh forward toward's the morrow.

iv.

Interval's shalt pass
With times we both art to busy;
But at the end, when the sunshine bend's
I'll still be waiting for thee mine queen, mine hunny.




©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
©Earl Jane nagley dedication ( Filipino rose)