years ago in the honey well before the bull was running
i sat with grampa in the shade as the old gold lab was sunning
grampa called the stars to dance, the moon to sing and then
by chance, we  moved the knight and rooked the king again

oh honeywell, where sweet men fell and bulls all crashed and clamored
i sopped dreams of wattled bees or not two bees  questionably enamored

years gone past, far too fast,  my honeyed grampa quietly arotting
still so sweet, but i’m incomplete as all i’ll be is loudly here forgotting
all i’ll be and all eyed bees, this honeyed memory atotting
until grampa’s gone, a mated king, and every word besotting

oh honeywell, where dear men fell and the bull he came in crashing
my syrup dreams of stinging bees but not two bees as dashing

years to come with honey done, and the bull past studding
i’m dear grampa now in shade, my age displayed, in my son’s eyes budding
sunny day, my sonny love so wise, dance with stars and fireflies
by chance, or plan, love, understand every pawn — he dies.

oh honeywell, and pansied smell, watch the bull, he’s stomping
you are dreams – two bees but not two bees through my soul aromping