A poem On Bees

"Bees fly,
They fly and die and try and try,
To satisfy there queen.
For she is all they care about,
She's what they live for, fly for, die for.
And then when winter comes around once again they die for her,
But this time they don't fly.
This time they squeeze so tight into a ball all day and night,
And who is in the middle?
There queen.
So like I said they live and die, the fly and squeeze and live there life.
Would I could I be a bee? Would I could I live and die, squeeze and fly all for the
Queen?
A bee could.
A bee would."
-Colors