They swarmed us like a war of the worlds,
those goddamn bees.
I was nine. My lucky and strange friend Billy was ten.
I got stung twenty times. Billy got didn’t
get stung at all.
At first I couldn’t figure out why the bees kept stinging me
and none stung Billy.
Billy said it was because he was an alien.
I laughed back then, but now I think he was right.
Because three years later, I saw a large UFO over Billy’s house
and Billy and his family disappeared forever.
I think he must have gone back to his home planet
in some distant galaxy unknown to any scientists.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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