Little Golden Girl

Sounds like you are lost
right behind where you are almost are
What are you doing here?
Swiping what I have to say about that?
It is I,
making sure that no thieves take the golden honey
from the hives.

We all are natural friends to befriend
the bees, but you have lost your way.
On the way, your treasure melts
away into a way to let go.
You’re almost there, save me!

Honey for everybody!
I hope I never see another world
covered in seagulls.
The bees are enough for me.
Little golden girl
you are perfect
in your comb
waiting for the right time to
find your way to where you almost
can be.

If It Wasn’t For The Bees

No water. Small village.
All these thirsty blossoms.

Weak bushes in hushed soil.

We lulled them by Lilac,
with two eyelids. Puffed.
Bruised by honey makers,
swollen from fresh stings.

If it wasn’t for the bees!
If it wasn’t for the bees!

Glass jars come, mocking.
Scarves glaring
thin, glass necks.
Metal heads reflecting

Sun time.

this will be me. Smiling.
Displaying flowers.
Preparing honey jars
for guests.