hmhmhm

Morning nectar is cupped delicately, as the last smudge
of evening charcoal fades. Her voice resonates deeply, dancing.
Fingers shake as she presses lightly against a golden petal, softly.
As butterflies cling dangerously to the overflowing lip, pollen spilling,
the air is quite. The gentle hum of the winged tigers vanishing; air seeming empty,
large majestic homes that once stood tall begin to crumble, hexagonal bricks falling.

Small golden drops slither down the moss covered oak. Sunlight falling,
illuminating the golden pool of honey; Small waves lap the deserted house, a smudge
of crystallized amber holds tightly to the molded post. The house is empty,
now. She looks to the sky and remembers a world of happiness, with bees dancing 
in the wind and children shying away from the small creatures. Laughter spilling
out of young lips, and parents joyously watching from afar, now the world spins softly.

She looks around as withered crops hang their heads darkly, the wind softly
pulling at their skeletal frames with more force, watching as the heads begin falling,
the wind pushing the tips to collapse. As buds topple, non pollinated seeds spilling
from their open mouths, she sighs. Her fingers playing with the earth, a smudge
of dirt wiped across her eye. She stands shakily, her feet tripping as she begin dancing,
she screams her voice echoing, the sound flooding through her town, yet it’s empty.


They took to the clouds, their small intertwined wings glowing, their hives left empty.
A dying queen lay silent as the children took to the sky, the hum disappearing softly.
The world shudders to a stop, the small silken connections snapping, dominos falling.
Her body curls into the ground as her stomach growls, her maddened eyes dancing,
the winged tigers had deserted her people, they died around her. She is the last, a smudge
in amongst a dying race. A hungry race. A forgotten one. Her small tears spilling.

Clouds of yellow and black once flooded the sky, natural populations spilling,
Beyond millions. The clouds still cry, and the wind still sings, yet it seems empty,
as mother nature’s small fingers crush a civilization grown too large; a small smudge
beneath Nature’s powerful hands. The human race follows, as softly
we collapse; hunger, terror, darkness taking reign. Our shallow footsteps falling.
She glares at the blood red sun, shuddering as the memories begin dancing.

Freshly baked bread with smooth butter and coated in golden honey is dancing
through her mind. Her stomach quivers in recognition, as she sees the steady drip spilling
from the derelict hive. She remembers her parent’s famished eyes as they begin falling,
bodies littering her beautiful home; Hunger. Disease. Her damaged heart is empty,
as those she loved passed. Her cracked voice calls, a childhood song echoes softly
around her, as she calls for the bees to return and play, her tears now only a smudge.

The scattered world once alive is empty, as the winds pulls softly,
at the dying trees, their broken forms dancing as dried leaves are falling.
The abandoned hives are spilling dust, as bees become just a smudge.