Why do you waste good sun? <br />Burned from both ends. <br />and drained from the middle. <br />The light and heat which you seek, <br />laid out and stacked as neat as the shoes <br />taken off of your tired feet. <br />Yet all that it owns does fit, <br />into the box that you have tied in silk to it. <br />Hands of soft waxed bubble bee. <br />It breaths in the light that you leave to see. <br />The lace around the part that cleaves <br />to the heart of it's tree. <br />It draws forth it's straw, <br />it is bought in song along it's aft, is <br />middle breached such <br />for velvets gloved soft sacked cloth. <br />It burns at both ends, <br />it's honey the bee flies from this tree is <br />coached out to it's the bowl and all of the rest, <br />is left to the bee most humbled to make more..<br /><br />Is It Poetry<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/burned-at-both-ends/
