A fragrance to the bee flowing from a flowering tree
A treasure mined buried in a blind mind
In metaphor\'s debris lays the key designed
To find gems refined in poetry
Bits and pieces of verbal rock falling out of talk
Toys of the departed soon discarded
Not given stock, some red carded disregarded
Beneath layers guarded a secret in a clock
Pleasure in discovery, what is a secret\'s recovery
In the ticking of time out of darkness does chime
Jewels of honey sublime written on stone of rhyme
Out of grime, light of reason does climb as words of a humming bee