On a warm summer day, an old soul returned to a place where parts of it remain for years. Waiting while misplaced pieces of it floated through life on waves of tears. 352 more words
Little bee coming home, pouch full of honey, shimmying left and right, breeze catches his hide, pushes his flight, in the distance home, goes a little higher, safe up there, waves at dragonfly, keeps eye on birds, can’t get too close, remember uncle herb, buzz buzz buzz and more buzz, panic stations alarm bells, puffs of smoke, his little heart jumps, little bee hurries up, dives and dives, brothers and sisters, there’s always someone home, pulls up on tree, exhausted and perspiring, watches afraid to go near, fire and smoke panic, coughing and choking, friends join him, neighbours wanted the honey, rather than negotiate, decided to burn them out, poor bee homeless and sad, honey going to waste, unemployed as well, no wisdom in that.
“Without love we are not more than an empty canvas.” – Philip T. M.
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add a little to the pile and watch the world smile