Author A. K. Ramanujan Bees, six tiny legs and wings all lovely, lay eggs in the hundred-petal lotus, but the cane, hollow-stemmed as the bamboo, destroys them all in the watering places near his town: still, as I think of him, my bright bangles slip from my wrists. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments