He slowly approached the bee hives,
Observing the endless streams of flight.
The honey bees deserved his attention,
But he wondered, What is she doing tonight?
He put on his hat and accompanying veil,
To provide protection from stings to his face.
He lit up his smoker and then eased it down.
Would I be welcome if I stopped by her place?
Prying open a lid he sent in a few puffs of smoke.
The bees calmed down and moved away,
While he checked each frame for the queen.
What could I bring to brighten her day?
The queen was perfect, undamaged and full.
In the summer this hive would be strong.
There would be supers of golden honey.
He’d get sweet rewards if nothing went wrong.
As he carefully reassembled the frames,
One worker flew out and stung his wrist,
Was that a portent of things to come?
Would he be crossed from her list?
As he worked through the remaining hives,
He was distracted by a disturbing thought.
If he was determined, would love find a way?
Because she was well worth any battles fought.
In his beat-up car he sped wearily to her house,
Hoping he could see her without being seen.
On her porch he would leave a bottle of honey,
With a note saying, TO MY QUEEN.
Plans concerning love can sometimes go awry.
Honeyed words often remain frozen on lovers’ lips,
And love not claimed can be lost for all time,
Sailing swiftly away like a phantom ship.
In front of her house he parked his car,
And placed the honey up on her porch.
Before he could leave she raced outside.
He wasn’t the only one carrying a torch.
She was perfect, just right for his queen.
Ripe and willing, she was waiting for her king.
Their future was golden and offered sweet rewards.
Though they had little, they had everything.