Honeycomb Heart

This magical bee- doesn't sting it is soothing, pacific and ights 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.