City bee
I’m a bee. I buzz among the busy streets of the big city, I hover over full trash cans and live where people rush and step, come and go. I fly where people walk.
I’m a bee. I seek sweet things among the smells of the city. I can make a meal of the leftover coffee in people’s cups, not hurried to finish it up.
I’m a bee. I don’t read, I don’t study. But what is truly sad: barely can I make honey in the busy streets. So I take comfort in flying around, drinking coffee, looking up at the pair of eyes that stare at me as they hurry past the trash…
I am no bee. I don’t look at bees’ eyes. But this bee over here, hovering over the full bin, was on my way. I had to move aside. I almost apologized by instinct.
I am no bee. I keep on walking to my class.
