The forgotten creation...

Life is like a little butterfly
It's wings spread a delicate
perfume amongst the last
dying withered broken
petals of the red roses
That have been sucked
dry by the busy little
bees ready to turn
their first fruits
Into a honey pot
fit for an army
of hungry ants
that run around in
fleets busy themselves
between the cracks
of the paving-stone
High in the tree tops
the birds tweet a lullaby
before the sun begins to set...