This magical bee-
doesn't sting
it is soothing, pacific
and lights upon my eyes
with fuzzy feet
turning my tears to honey
thus sweetening
my bitter pain.
He brings other
bees,
ones of hope
to pollinate
the beautiful flower
of love
growing in my
honeycomb heart.
Formerly,
my life was
a dried- up garden,
a wilted, withered vine
but now,
it flourishes
and the holes
in my heart
- like the honeycomb
are filled with nectar
- the dripping juice
of joy.