Knees Of My Bees

we share a culture same vernacular love of physical humor and time spent alone you with your penchant for spontaneous events for sticky and raspy, unearthed and then gone you are a gift promised sent with a wink with tendencies for conversations that raise bars you are a sage who is fueled by compassion comes to nooks and crannies, is bound for all stars you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle you make the knees of my bees weak you are a spirit that knows of no limit that knows of no ceiling who baulks at dead-ends you are a wordsmith who cares for his brothers not seduced by illusions of fair-weather friends you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle you make the knees of my bees weak you are a vision who lives by the signals of stomach and intuition as your guide you are a sliver of god on a platter who walks what he talks and who cops when he’s lied you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle you make the knees of my bees weak you make the knees of my bees weak, tremble and buckle you make the knees of my bees weak