From a summit a handsome Hornet flies down to a garden and he hears a cryptic cry of a dainty wild Buttercup.
'I am sorry that I am not a virgin anymore' flower nagged.
'It doesn't make any difference to a Flirtatious who prefers a variety of flavor? ' replied the honest hornet.
The old Chauvinist gardener who repents?
'What is the use of searching a virgin flower in the summer while the mischievous hornets flutter? '
Dear Nimal A lovely, gracious and wise poem....sweetly dancing on wings of mirthful reality Love, D.
Ha ha my friend, what a great write! ! Great capture about the birds and the... well at least the bees! Keep them coming! My best to you, Lee
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
very provocative. Write on, Nimal. Regards, Sandra