Bumblebee
Blue, and cold.
He stares up from his perch
of raspberry and goji rose--
the neck of his resting place
hooked between my fingers, swinging.
Back,
And forth.
Back and Forth.
The rhythm of my stride
In time with his dance,
And entire existence suspended
Within the fringe of my hand.
Yet I trip,
I slip and his world
Shatters--
Glinting, Indigo, and
tattered.
Jan 29, 2020
Jan 29, 2020 at 4:21 PM UTC
Bumblebee
Blue, and cold.
He stares up from his perch
of raspberry and goji rose--
the neck of his resting place
hooked between my fingers, swinging.
Back,
And forth.
Back and Forth.
The rhythm of my stride
In time with his dance,
And entire existence suspended
Within the fringe of my hand.
Yet I trip,
I slip and his world
Shatters--
Glinting, Indigo, and
tattered.
the bottle was so pretty-- a deep blue with bees on it-- but i slid on the ice in front of my dorm and dropped the bottle, bruising both my knees.
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