A Bee and the Flowering Quince

In a beautiful garden rare,

A little bumblebee frolicked with care.

Her eyes were always open wide,

Discovering lovely flowers with every stride.

She went to all and did the usual meet and greet,

Collecting nectar sometimes bitter sometimes sweet.

One day fluttering through a known corner,

Gazed upon the flowering Quince wrapped in strange armour.

Asked around about the captivating quince,

They asked her to stay away with a wince.

But the humble bee didn't judge a book by the cover,

Flew towards the Quince and started to hover.

The Quince was covered with plenty of thorns,

But had the sweet fragrance so she didn't bother about the small horns.

The shrub was happy with the tiny admirer,

Telling her anecdotes which caused such a furore.

Every time the bee flittered over,

Her wings were battered by the thorny armour.

The bee was going through her own problems,

Mentioned to the Quince that she will come after autumn.

But the Quince thought he was being abandoned,

Asked her to stay away and showered with thorn cannons.

She pleaded that wait till the flowers blossom,

Don't be scared and play possum.

Couldn't stay so she left with the promise,

Returned to see that the Quince had left the province.

She hurtled all around in scorching heat,

Hoping the Quince would finally meet.

But, Alas! the shrub had gone,

Leaving her to cry and moan.

Although had others who cheered her,

Everything appeared hazy and blur.

They told her she was warned before,

This had always been the Quince's lore.

But she knew what he and she talked about,

And knew his reason for bail out.

The Quince had a habit to hide,

Behind all the thorny pride.

The bee indeed was hurt from all the prickles,

But couldn't forget the moments of sparkles.

So dear Quince if you ever come back,

Remember the bee will stay even if it is pitch black.

~ Kanika Kaushal ✨ The Luminous Muse

Comments

Amazon Worker

Hey there Amazon Worker, Do you think you pulled one over? Mocked my vulnerable side, only to protect your fake pride. I can’t fathom why I ever asked you to pamper and protect. Your wealth was never my concern, yet you watched my trust burn. As I began to share how I felt, you made a snide remark, hitting below the belt. Do you think I care if people change the way they stare? I’m no longer trying to hide; the girl you knew has long died. It’s amusing now that you said I remind you of your mother— What kind of devil hurts the daughter of another? Everyone says to forgive and forget since you were only a child. I would if you didn’t parade your weak masculinity, born of Rothschild. Your false grandeur can’t erase the damage done, I’ve found my strength and my journey’s just begun. If you thought you were good for my image, Know this: my growth surpasses your limits. I’m a woman whose name you can’t tear from the page, And I will stand tall, owning my own stage. ~ Kanika Kau...

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Oh, drop the good guy act, You pretended to care, that's a fact. Someone who was hiding their own shame, Called me psycho and crazy, how lame. You tried to charm me with your coffer, Brushed off my pain, saying, “Stop it, or else I won’t buy a lightsaber.” You took all you could and then asked what I have to offer? Funny how you wanted to burn it all down when you lost your maker, But when I cried and screamed, called me a big faker. You claimed to know love, but never took the time, To understand my heart, my rhythm, my rhyme. You wrapped me in darkness while claiming the light, But all you offered was a hollow delight. Now your shadows fade, and I choose to ignite, I’ll weave my own stories, reclaiming my flight.

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