Honeysuckle

Honeysuckle, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

You did not yield to winter’s bitter cold,
Patiently anticipating spring’s thaw.
Early sun’s warming kisses made you bold,
Attaining new heights never reached before.

April rain brought a carpet of flowers.
Nectar aplenty, it dripped to my feet.
With swarms of bees invading your towers,
Reaping your essence making hives complete.

Warm summer breezes carried your perfume,
To distant places on gossamer wings.
Finding rest upon an awaiting womb.
Soon the birds will feed on the fruit it brings.

A late autumn frost with its mighty sword,
Did still the honeysuckle I adored.

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