A Mere Bagatelle

As I sit amongst my weary mind.
I hear the voice of my mother.
I speak to her with the words that
I’ve said many times before “Mother May I?”
She looks at me as if I am sitting in the clouds.

My heart stops, just as if I were to stand at the end of a cliff.
My courageous mind and heart, rips apart at the thought that
this moment will not last forever.
I cross my heart and hope to die
I Stick a needle in my eye.

I hear the whir of the buzzing bees.
They look at me,
And as I sit and eat a blackberry.
“What is the matter?” they ask
With solemn looks on their face.

I lick my lips, and tell them
that I do not know what is the matter.
For no one really knows what the matter is.
Nor I, Nor anyone in this world.
It is a mere bagatelle.