A bee sat on a flower,
A soft pink fading into shades of white flower,
Gentle and fragile and full of life flower.
It wasn’t what the flower wanted,
But as the bee took it’s nectar and left
Leading the flower to its withering and eventual fruition,
The flower in its new ripe form, could see so clearly,
That may be it wasn’t what it wanted,
But it was what it needed.

The nectar was never hers to keep.
The purpose wasn’t to have, 
It was to



 Photographer unknown
Poetry © Copyright 2020, Niharika Jaiswal