By Lois Perch Villemaire
A bee was looking in my window
wings moving at incredible speed
coming so close to the glass
hanging in the air.
It moved away and returned
several times, watching me staring back.
Suddenly I realized
it wasn’t about me at all.
The bee was looking at itself
perhaps thinking it’s reflection
was another bee.
That’s the way it is with people who act
a certain way and I think it’s because
I said something hurtful
or insulting but like the bee,
I’m discovering it’s not always about me.
“I write because it makes me happy to play with the order of words.” – the writer