Poetry

Bearer

it’s just a small thing.

a trinket.

overlooked in a rushing crowd

but noticed instantly by family.

I wonder if they’d be surprised

to see it there,

making rainbows skip about the walls

as it caught the light

while I would sit, fingers wrapped around a tea cup,

in front of the window

facing them.

you’d be next to me,

teeth as bright as the gem you gave me

in a smile that i treasure even more.

Poetry

Bees

We spent the night together.

No doing, just being.

Sometimes it’s nice to just be.

Bee in a bonnet – it feels

like that, except there’s never a way

to release the busy buzzing scouts.

They nest at the edges of my vision,

perpetually reminding me

of all the little things

that eat away at my nerves.

They quiet when I’m with you.