BeeswaxA Poem by bigfootprint I don't care until the sting swells up on me. I don't begrudge The billionaire Some capitalists View with envy. He plays his game, As do his heirs -- And the lawyer, And bride make three. But all must know How patience wears When honey bears Rob his bee tree. The bees swarm out But I don't care Until the sting Swells up on me. The billionaire Beguiling swears, "T'weren't me, call My attorney." Lawyer, bride, heirs With empty glares Insist with glee, "T'was bears, you see."
© 2018 bigfootprintAuthor's Note
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bigfootprintBossier City, LAAboutHi I'm Doug Fowler, age 77, proud American. Perpetual student, newspaper copy editor (retired), poet, novelist, painter, Christian minister, USAF veteran, and pool player. I live alone and like it (bu.. more..Writing
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