Days of Old

I once saw a fairy upon a pedal of a rose.

She was in a secret garden holding a dancer's pose.

She was gazing upon some flowers

For at least a couple of hours.

When suddenly what came a flying

Was a bumble bee who was crying.

She asked him what was wrong

So he grabbed his flute and played a song

The melody was bittersweet and spoke of the days of old.

A time when nectar was good to eat

And all who shared and nothing was sold.

~ William DeHaro Kinard