It hurts, and it stings.
The bite of a bee.
Watching the stinger wiggling, pumping poisons into me.
Not its fault, but mine - for stepping on the unseen.
Holding no anger for the pain I'm feeling.
Only wishing the destruction of an innocent could have been avoided.
I'm sorry missus bee.
You were such a lovely lady, only looking for pollen to feed you and your colony.
My steps will ever be guided by memory of my stepping misfortunately.
Next time, there won't be a dead bee, nor a stinger inside me wriggling.
About the Creator
Hunter Blakely
Born a peasant, grown a prince.
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