She had a bee in her bonnet,
So many ideas
Waiting to escape.
For years she held them captive,
Afraid of what others would say,
The judgement that would surely come.
When the wrinkles appeared,
The gray hair sprouted,
Her fear lost its grip.
She began to feel strong,
She trusted her instincts,
Knew her worth,
Finally, the wisdom of her wrinkles
And the beauty of her gray hair
Unlocked the crumbling prison door.
She released the bee in her bonnet,
And, stretching long silent wings,
Creativity unfurled its vibrant buds
Blooming into the world for all to see.
(I took this photo at an aquatic store in Birmingham last summer.)