Rustling leaves along the smooth red fade of pyracantha
Hummingbirds hover gracefully over trees
Fast wings will fly away with my mind chanting mantras
But the melody of my words are lost in bees
Pollen to which I’m allergic they gather and bring to me
Mistaken because I am no queen, I sneeze
No peasant, no person, no love to which I’m chosen to be
Just living on the surface, drifting with the breeze
Peace, love and knowledge gently floating on the sea
Under the sun I am who fell off, so I am what… Leaves?
Hoping to pass on what I have, I let go of my seeds.
© The Sad Owl
thesadowlpoetry.wordpress.com 
Passing as process, not event. 👍
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Literally yes. Implicitly, passing away.
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Excellent. Autumn such a beautiful time with its array of colour, seasons live for each other sadly the human race does not seem to grasp the benefit of togetherness.
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Thank you.
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Maybe that is why bees always followed me – and then tried to sting me when they got close enough to see I wasn’t the real deal.
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“followed me – [,]to see I wasn’t the real deal”. There is something in that entire thought that made me sad but somehow inspired a bit. I like your interpretation it gave me a few interesting ideas!
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