The Bee

When I was a child

I loved playing in my grandma's backyard.

I loved digging in the dirt

Hopeful to find a slimy worm.

I would poke it and laugh when

It slid over the stick I held in front of its path.

Years later, I returned to the same backyard

Looking for the same hole I had dug before.

I found no hole but something else

Caught my attention.

It buzzed and flew over every tulip

And lily my grandmother had planted

With my help.

It flew around me playing a game.

Oh! How I wanted a companion!

I chased after it, running as it flew faster

And faster until all my surroundings became a colorful

Blur, an abstract art of colorful swirls.

I ran and ran keeping my eye on the bee as

It flew and flew.

The wind blew against me

And my hair flew behind me.

My legs and chest hurt but I didn't mind.

The thrill of the chase was undeniable.

I could fly! I could fly!

Then I felt myself slowing down

As the pain from my body finally

Overtook me and I stopped.

Where had the bee gone?

Looking around I felt alone as quietness replaced

The howling wind rushing past my ears I had

Earlier heard.

This was a foreign place, a place I knew I did not belong.

I looked back to see deserted pavements

Pointing to an endless horizon.

Suddenly I felt as if chasing a bee

Was such a foolish decision.

The bee was not my friend for it has stranded

Me here in this dark and cold place.

But it does not matter now.

I am back in my grandma's backyard

Watching my child play with the worm.

And I am waiting for the day she comes back

From chasing the bee.