poetry · story

Busy Bee…

You have always been a busy bee,
I heard my Auntie say,
under the Olive Tree one day.

She was a woman that never left
the square she made back in ’63.
A few acres is all she needed.
I guess….

My Auntie lived life in a matchbox
tucked away in the plots she read
the worlds she created by pen
writings between floating walls
waves of unsettled thoughts.

An eccentric woman, a writer
dancing to her own beat
chained home by her mind.

I relate to her chains
except I’m trapped by my legs
and stopped by pain….

Mystery after mystery she wrote
poem after poem I write

They say I’m a lot like my Auntie
Both–busy bees…. of the mind.

care for a reading

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s