I took a walk today with my dog Chase. I was in front of my neighbors lawn when a bee flew by my face and towards my neck. I titled sideways and pulled down my sweat shirt. As I titled my hair from my pony swung and I felt immediate pain. I made my way towards that house titled sideways and made my way up to my mom. She checked it out and sure enough I was stung.
Can I say ouch. It was my first bee sting and it hurt a lot. I put some Neosporin on the wound which just made it hurt more. After my mother saw that I was okay all she could say was
“the poor bee”
“you killed a bee”
“bee’s are disappearing and you killed one.”
So now not only do I have a wound on my neck I have the guilt of killing that poor bee. And it wasn’t even my fault!
So I wrote this small poem called “Poor Little Bee.”
"Poor Little Bee"
Poor little bee
Flyng about
Made one wrong turn
In my neck it flew
A moment of panic
A quick sting
A quick getaway
One last flight
Landing gently
Stilling in the breeze
Poor little bee
I’m very sorry bee that you flew into my neck.
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