On The Wings of a Bee

Life is a flower of which love is the honey” she thinks to herself as she vaguely recalls the smell of lilacs.  Yes, they are still in her hand, she can see that, and she can also see the fresh honey dripping from the bee hive that was sheltered by the lilac bush, a hive she disturbed for daring to pick a flower from the Lord’s garden.  She stopped carrying the shots she needed if stung by a bee as she never bothered bees.  It was easy enough to avoid them  for most of her life, the life she sees leaving on the wings of a bee.

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