She was different. 

As different as she could be. 

Hadn’t anyone thought of treating her nicely? 

A bee who made no honey? 

Who could she possibly be? 

A bee can’t be a bee if it makes no honey is what they all say. 

If a bee loses her black and yellow she’s no longer what a bee could be. 

Oh, how she wishes she was no different than other. 

She just wanted to fit in is what she’d told her brother. 

He was what they called a drone.  

A worker fit for it all. 

He saw the little one who made no food. 

It was his sister he loved overall. 

He heard and cared and kissed and bowed. 

She listened and kissed and followed. 

You’re still a bee though you are different as me. 

You, my sister, still black and yellow with those pretty wings. 

A beautiful bee. 

Yes, so true. 

Though you make no honey. 

I see through. 

I see a beauty. 

That beauty is you. 

Oh brother, must you learn. 

I love you much in return. 

I see my beauty, I see my worth. 

Brother, I still help the Earth. 

Though I make no honey. 

I help with pollen. 

That keeps these flowers growing. 

If I didn’t, no honey, 

will be born. 

Yes, I see now. 

I see why I’m unique. 

I see my belonging to this journey. 

Honey can still be made just not by me. 

I can help but not make. 

Effort, a help to the work. 

I’m still one with worth. 

I’m different but now I see. 

I should always see I’m always, 

A bee.