Elixir

So many flowers brimming with nectar,
Sway gently in the December breeze.
Lavenders, dandelions, daffodils,
Tulips, sunflowers and orchids.

So many choices a bee has,
To collect nectar from;
To get intoxicated.

There is festivity in the air
When the bee chooses the best,
Incurring the envy of the rest.

The bud doesn't blossom soon.
It is a long wait.
The bee gets its righteous gift,
When the petals unfurl.

No pain, no strain.
The petals unfurl gracefully.
There is festivity in the air,
When the bee collects nectar.

One fine day,
The flower may wither.
The bee may die. But,
The honey collected,
The union of the flower and the bee
Lives forever.
It is elixir.
It is immortal.