Poem: Window Pain

I tease the bees, As they see, The plant staring back at thee. Sat on my window, Beautiful and bright, But never quite felt the light. I opened the hatch, In bee came, But I shut it off again. Wing in pane, Blood pouring in the rain, Sweetly sane.

Om Podcasten

“We grow to give new meaning to old words” - Jessica (podcast speaker) New poems encapsulated modern day struggles but no struggle hasn’t been heard of before. Poems are time capsules that were never dated. They were buried in the past but remain intact in the present.