Honey Bee
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.
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