Home before dark
One melliferous summer
in the meadow of their labor
like upstart workers
who dabbled in nectar
they shocked the royal chamber.
Rose in rebellion
these two bleeding hearts
satisfied their impatience
by thrashing out forget-me-nots
and letting their passion flower.
He was a warehouse guard and would-be singer
of whirring love song serenades.
She was impressionable
with taffy-like charm
sent to harvest the field
and return with the yield
reserved for use
in sweet jellies they made.
Such was the pace, that melliferous summer
each in their place, on Queenie’s Farm.
Each passage to the depot
was a rendezvous
close to the swarm of workers
waxing and waning.
She was the strangest ( some thought bizarre )
with her tattoo ( or was it a scar?).
He was older and she was new.
Convention made their feelings taboo.
So, he sang for her, of love, amid the lilacs.
touched her, yet all the while refraining.
“Home before dark”
was “Queenie’s” rule
a natural law, they all obeyed…
until that curious summer’s eve
when a harvester could not be found
nor the guard/protector of their ground.
Yet, both were safe in the lilac grove
secretly meeting as lover’s might do
sharing the setting sun, the evening dew
and a secret they could not believe.
There in the flowers and fading light
they discovered her adulthood.
The once shy and sterile collector
had morphed to pheromonal extremes
and enticed him to fulfill his destiny.
He had found his perfect harmony!
Perhaps it was a lack of royal jelly
or genetic code misunderstood
that delayed her transformation
from honeybee to Queen of his dreams.
She flew high on his musical buzz.
He followed the scent of her calling.
When they joined, in ecstasy
his life drained away, it rushed
and, frozen, he dropped like a hailstone.
She swooped down to her first drone
but a ponderous weight fell over her
as though the sky was falling.
She had no choice she had to sting.
once, twice…too late, she was crushed.
The girl of the fields and the warehouse guard
met at twilight in their secret lilac spot.
She had blossomed to a woman, somehow.
So, he sang to her as a lover.
When they touched, the ecstasy
made them realize their destiny.
They had found perfect harmony!
Rolling and thrashing in forget-me-nots
she got stung, not once, but twice.
How could they explain this, to Queenie, her Mother?
Shooting stars above
forget-me-nots beneath
love in her baby-blue eyes
foregoing a bridal wreath
they sowed their wild oats.
One day in Springtime
from out of her labor
a daughter was born
as sweet as nectar
she was shocked…
When they named her, “Queenie.”