The Bumble Bee

by John Smallshaw
(London, England)

Butterflies in my belly sink down
and turn my legs into jelly
She just smiles.
And she watches me shake.
Then she rises and takes hold of my hand.
In the dreamland of ecstasy
where dreams come true
my dreams will always be
of you.

Her treasures she shows me and they blow me away
In her night she is day.
She is so strong
I long to be
the one who'll see
the other side
she bids me slide
under the sheet
she has cold feet
I do not mind
I think I'll find
her heart is warm.

And in the morning when I wake
at twenty five before the hour of eight
she's left a note.
It smells of her
I read it there
beside the bed
I read it twice
there's no mistake
she's coming back
She wants to take
a little more.
My heart begins to soar
I change the bedding,sweep the floor
put on some clothes and wait beside
the open door.

At five sixteen
she wanders in
and she gives me a great big grin
and we begin.
The music plays she stays
The music stays she plays
The music becomes the background of the playground
and the only sound
is sound.