The Girl Who Killed The Bees A curse follows her and she knows why

barefoot.

Nothing rose to meet her.

She wasn’t hated.

No one knew.

Not really.

They just said the bees had vanished.

Still, flowers never opened when she passed.

Fruit fell early from the tree.

Dogs turned away,

as if they heard some hum

still trapped inside her.

Now she’s twenty-three.

Works in pest control.

Smiles a lot.

Drives a clean white van.

Some say she’s kind,

efficient,

quiet.

But gardens near her house

never bloom.

And no one’s seen a bee

in three summers. Not one.

The girl that killed the bees

a dark cloud follows her

she pretends not to notice or care

She knows it’s dark round her aura

and she knows the curse follows her