Knees Of My Bees

We share a culture, same vernacular

Love of physical humor and time spent alone

You with your penchant for spontaneous advents

For sticky unrests be unearthed and then gone

You are a gift renaissance with a wink

With tendencies for conversations that raise bars

You are a sage who is fueled by compassion

Comes to nooks and crannies as balm for all scars

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

Who knows of no ceiling, who balks at dead ends

You are a wordsmith who cares for his brothers

Not seduced by illusion 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 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