do not open Grandmas Bee Box
Not the bee box! Grandma would say
We heard it each time we went to stay
She had something in there precious for sure.
We knew to open it would feel impure.
Our parents would caution, “Don’t go near that box.”
I thought it held a monster with sharp teeth of a fox.
When grandma passed in twenty-twenty
We had lots to sort out, I do mean plenty.
“Let’s open the bee box,” my sister whispered to me.
I said “Let’s wait for the other siblings” – there are three.
Our brother was the last to come in the door.
It was midnight, we could not wait any more.
We ripped that box open and stared at Grandma’s stash.
That old woman was a pot smoker, and here was her hash.
We laughed ourselves silly, my cousin got sicker than sick.
We could not believe this was our grandma’s trick!
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