You have always been a busy bee,
I heard my Auntie say to me,
years ago under the Olive Tree.
She was a woman that never left
the square she made back in ’63.
A few acres
is all she needed.
an eccentric woman, a writer
that danced to her own beat
chained home by her mind.
A woman much like me
except I sit trapped
by my legs
and stopped by pain……
I can relate to chains.
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.
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
connected with Dverse