The Watermelon Tree
by Happy Hiram
Clutching the moldy skeleton
of my last precious watermelon
clutching its heart and worrying each seed
like it was a chest filled with rosary beads
Hoping to survive on it a week
scratching and clawing what sustenance it eked
When a lorry crashed against me from my street
Sending the melon into broken sheets
AA* BB* CC*
The thread of my tale escapes even me
my lifeblood sunk down in the muck
I cried in my yard o'er my shards
thunderstruck.
1 by 1, black tears took root,
drilling up from sog and soot
growing together, to a mighty vine
wrapped with melons side to side
a tree of fruit, grown from my dismay
Do miracles work any other way?
If only had I the patience
to watch the ground
but I rescued that melon
with a mighty bound
and it's seeds and it's life
died with me.
And there never was a watermelon tree.
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