A bee sting,
painful, burning –
calls to mind my days
of youth, yearning.
As the pain dulls,
I wonder at his power –
of him who mistook me
for a flower.

Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.


About Shainbird

"A lonely craftsman putting one word after another."
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

6 Responses to Oversight

  1. Bastet says:

    Oh my how painful…hate that!

  2. Anonymous says:

    I always love to read your poems, but the ones that rhythm are my favorite.

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