The beekeeper

The truth that we thought was the truth
fell like the pack of lies that it was and
the odds that we thought were even,
were even more crooked than that.

So we dropped off the radar
and went under the grid and
slid off the end of the rainbow.

Same thing there
gold everywhere
and diamonds that
coloured our eyes.

In the morning after the morning last night
still tight with the alcohol, coke and some Demerol
we glued back the curtains to look at the sky,
it was raining.

And I know it always rains in February,
but something told me that
Summer was on the way.

Being criticised constantly
and ostracised eventually
September seemed like a good
time to go

but

as it’s dry now
think I’ll try now
to rejoin the
hive,
staying alive is easy
it’s the living
that’s hard.

© 2016, John Smallshaw.