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A Fading Future
My father and I went walking
Along the park's path.
There we found a hive of bees,
Too many to count by math.
They buzzed in and out of a hollow tree,
Which smelled slightly of honey.
They seemed so alive and happy,
Maybe because the day was sunny.
The next day my father and I returned,
The hollow tree above our heads.
And the path where we had walked yesterday
Was now carpeted with bees, all dead.
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