Love is like pure honey.
With it, life is a treat.
Milestones, mountains,
pollination by little bees.
I hear buzzing all around.
Footsteps cushion my ears,
but I dread silent sound
and the day honey ages
and tastes bittersweet.
I'll forever cherish the jars
that collect the memories
and pray every night
that my little bees go far
and find their shooting stars.
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Author:
xTattooing Paperx (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: January 7th, 2026 23:13
- Comment from author about the poem: Watching my children grow up is the sweetest gift in my life. My little busy bees need to stay little just a little longer.
- Category: family
- Views: 14
- Users favorite of this poem: Efrain Cajar
Offline)
Comments2
I always found that when kids get to around five, you lose them to their pals.
They sure do grow up fast, probably not helped by computers and everything that surrounds them.
Even the bedtime story has been kicked into touch.
Just wait till they're demanding mobile phones and cash. lol
Oh too late. They all already have phones. Sigh. Im grateful though bc I've never really lost them to friends. They always want me to meet them and then they all just wanna stay here lol.
A lovely poem and metaphor for one's children. A wonderful read
Thanks so much 😊
You are most welcome
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