Honeydew Son

Christopher Madsen
1 min readAug 8, 2021

Creation of life cultivates patience from time in an unknown beginning.

Photo by Eleonora Albasi on Unsplash

Adventuring among bamboo stalks, I feel a dampened heat.
A conscious summer portal, transformation of the meek.
Inside bands of growing grass, dreaming to belong.
I continue down a broken path humming love’s sweet song.

A year ago I walked this trail with nothing to be seen.
Plain and flat, cracking ground, barren charred meat.
I broke crusted soil, planted shoots, diverted stream to soak.
Then walked each day tending grass springing from a moat.

I met you wading, pulling stalks, too young to shield our sun.
Checking sticky honeydew leaves, breaking beams to burn.
You shared a secret with a setting sky, torching disease to smoke.
A barren nest of pleasure, wishing a lover to stoke.

Giants stretch from fertile ground, scratching cloud and sky.
I weave my way through organic walls, passing shadows time.
We met that day on broken grass, creating fingers bound to one.
A song of happiness now breaks my chest, meeting our new born son.

Copyright Christopher Madsen 2021

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