Bees in Amber
“I wish I could remember that first day,
first moment of your meeting me.”
We did meet, sometime, didn’t we?
Or have I always known you?
And if we did meet, how did you come
to me? Soft, perhaps like water-lilies
stain the lake...custard cupped, saucers
the greenest of things green?
Like a hummingbird, maybe... drinking
from a cone flower?
Like a raindrop sculpting a circle
in a glass of champagne?
Like a Sara Orange tip – baptised
with morning dew?
I walked beside you on a path through
a forest, didn’t I? We kissed in the shadow
of the trees...
a lipstick ring imprinted on your cheek
and your name on my heart?
You made the pines crowd into a shade for me,
and did we hear the sound
of a cloud of blue butterflies – their wings
The forest, the butterflies...the bees;
ah yes, the bees, and where, indeed, that path?
They really did exist, didn’t they, and what of
you, or me...or us?