Flowers and Bees

Often I find myself wandering 

into the pathway of sweet apple-blossom trees,

watching petals flutter to the ground.

I look at the flowers with 

envy and longing,

wishing to pluck one off

and stick in my hair,

its beauty overcoming my curls

ad shining like a diamond among coal.

But right when my hand reaches for 

a limb of the tree,

a bee buzzes angrily and flies towards me

with jealousy evident in its wings.

I yank my hand back, 

watching as it hums away

and wonder if my wish is worth it.

And as I watch more petals fall onto my clothes, 

I find my feet moving towards the safety of my home,

fear overcoming desire.