Autumn Blaze

We dug the hole one quiet fall,
The leaves around us red and small.
A sapling slight, with roots still bare,
We gave it space, we gave it care.

Autumn Blaze, its name be true,
A fire that someday might break through.
We watched it lean, then helped its stand,
As winds moved strongly across our land.

Now look—it towers, bold and wide,
Its branches stretching toward the sky.
While others stall or wither in place,
Ours climbed with calm and patient grace.

It wasn’t just the sun and rain,
But hands that worked through joy and strain.
Like marriage, like a love once bright,
It rose because we did it right.

But love’s not just what’s built and grown—
It’s what you keep, and nurture, and own.
And somewhere in the in-between,
We lost the roots once so serene.

The tree still thrives, tall as a prayer,
While silence lingers in the air.
And I can’t help but see the cost—
Of something strong that still was lost.

We could have trimmed, we could have healed,
We could’ve fought, we could’ve kneeled.
Like tending bark or guarding flame,
Love asks for more than just a name.

So now that tree, it holds my gaze—
A monument to better days.
To what can grow and still be gone—
A blaze that burned, and then moved on.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved

Gale Woods Farm Ride

We started in Wayzata, wheels to the ground,
The hum of our tires, a soft, steady sound.
Just the three of us, the sky painted blue,
A summer-day promise, pure and true.

The trail stretched quiet, the trees leaned in,
And laughter bounced off bark and wind.
We pedaled to Gail Woods, calm and wide,
Where fields rolled soft and time just sighed.

Our son pointed out every cow and tree,
His joy as bright as the sky was free.
We stayed a while, then turned around,
Back to the trail, toward hometown ground.

An ice cream stop—sweet, cold, and loud,
With sticky fingers and hearts unbowed.
Then thunder rolled from far away,
The sky let go its silver spray.

But we didn’t run, we didn’t race,
We smiled through rain on every face.
Wet shirts clung close, the path turned slick,
But magic held us—strong and quick.

Because some days don’t need to shine,
To etch their place in heart and mind.
Just wheels, and wind, and love that stays—
We’ll always have that rainy day.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved

Three Floyds and a Queen

We rolled into Chicago with stars in our eyes,
A city alive under golden skies.
I planned it all—each perfect beat,
A queen-sized room on a quiet street.

Across the street, a twee place to sip and dine,
Where your hand found steady warmth in mine.
But it wasn’t the food, or the hotel light—
It was the way you looked that night.

We laughed like we were barely grown,
Like the world was ours, and ours alone.
And in that room, again, again,
We danced like fire beneath the rain.

Then south to Munster, where hops ran free,
Three Floyds pouring wild alchemy.
A fest of brews, of joy, of sound—
Our hearts got drunk just being around.

You spun in circles, smiling wide,
I held you close with pride inside.
Because love like that can’t be rehearsed—
It grows in kisses, in jokes, in thirst.

That trip still lives in quiet ways,
In weekday yawns and busy days.
But I hold it close, I always will—
A weekend high I’m chasing still.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved

Third Place Glory

This winter was rough, to put it plain,
Loss after loss, the same refrain.
Our squirt B2 team, hearts full, legs slow—
A bench of grit, with not much show.

Jake and I, we stood in doubt,
Should we take the Fargo route?
The team was tired, the record bleak,
We feared defeat would steal their streak.

“Maybe we just say it’s canned,”
We whispered low, not what we planned.
Not out of fear, but of the toll—
Protecting hearts was our shared goal.

But something sparked—we changed our mind.
We packed the bags, left doubt behind.
A ragtag crew with nothing owed,
Chasing hope down frozen roads.

In Fargo’s chill, they hit the ice,
With something fierce, something precise.
They passed, they fought, they found their speed,
And every kid played past their need.

Game by game, they rose, they burned,
With every shift, the tide had turned.
No longer just a team who tried—
They played with fire, they played with pride.

Then came the win for third place gold,
A trophy clutched by hands so bold.
We almost robbed them of this climb—
This memory etched in frozen time.

Jake and I just stood and grinned,
Proud of the boys, of where they’d been.
Not for the win or goals they scored,
But how they fought when we ignored.

Sometimes the heart knows more than stats,
More than boards and wins and hats.
And now we know what doubt can miss—
The joy of almost never is.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

Just a Man

I am just a man—no crown, no fame,
No headlines chasing down my name.
I wake up early, sleep comes late,
I carry love and shoulder weight.

I fix what breaks, I build what’s mine,
With calloused hands and worn-out spine.
The house, the cars, the floor, the door—
I patch the world and others still want more.

But beneath the grit and sweat and steel,
There’s something softer I conceal.
A heart that swells with love and fear,
That holds back tears no one can hear.

I laugh the loudest when they shine,
And ache in silence when they pine.
My dreams are small but true and wide—
A warm home, a hand in mine, pride.

I wish I had more time to cook,
To stir a p ot, to steal a look.
To pour my heart in sauce and flame,
And feed my soul the same sweet name.

I stand beside those dressed in white,
Who fight through pain from morn to night.
Though I don’t wear a stethoscope,
I give them strength, I give them hope.

I don’t need riches, gold, or praise,
Just honest work and steady days.
To see my family safe and fed,
To tuck my son into his bed.

And if the world should call for more,
I’d give my strength, my soul, my core.
Because though I stand with quiet grace,
There’s fire and softness in this place.

So call me simple—yes, I am.
A stubborn, loyal, weathered man.
But I would break and bend and fight—
For those I love, I’d give my life.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

She Showed Me How

She came into this world so fast,
A moment stamped into my past.
I was young—too young to know
How deep a father’s roots must grow.

I loved her, yes, but love alone
Can’t raise a child or build a home.
I stumbled, scared, without a plan,
Half-boy, half-heart, not yet a man.

The years moved on, she grew apart,
And guilt pressed heavy on my heart.
A bond undone, a missed first day,
A thousand things I didn’t say.

Then came her—my brand new wife,
A steady soul who lit my life.
She saw the cracks I tried to hide,
And stood not back, but by my side.

She didn’t scold the boy I’d been,
She met the man I am within.
With kindness, patience, grace so wide,
She drew my daughter to our side.

She opened doors I’d left closed tight,
Spoke softer truths, turned wrongs to right.
Invited joy where silence grew,
And helped me learn what dads must do.

Now laughter rings where doubt once lay,
My daughter knows I’m here to stay.
And every smile we share right now
Begins with her—she showed me how.

For all I missed, for where I fell,
She loved me through and loved me well.
And in her hands, I found my way—
A father formed, a debt I’ll pay.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.

In the Eyes of God

She brought me here with love so wide,
To stand with her, to be my guide.
But first—these pews, this sacred place,
Where I must reckon, seek some grace.

RCIA on Thursday nights,
Learning saints and candle lights.
I followed faith I didn’t know,
Just to be hers, to let love grow.

One evening, quiet in his room,
I met the priest—no fire, no gloom.
Father Lybarger, calm and still,
He asked me gently, “What you will?”

I said, “There’s something I still bear—
A weight too deep for just a prayer.
I wore the flag, I did my part…
But I’ve killed a man. And it scars my heart.”

His silence wasn’t cold or long,
But measured, like a sacred song.
“You served,” he said. “You carried flame.
But war, my son, is not your shame.”

“It was duty,” I said. “Orders, battle—
But still I see his face, and more.
Can I stand before the Lord,
And vow a love I once ignored?”

He breathed, then nodded, soft and grave,
“God knows the burdens soldiers brave.
He sees the soul beneath the fight,
And walks with you through every night.

You didn’t choose to k ill in hate—
You served the world, you bore its weight.
Confess not guilt, but give your pain,
Let mercy wash you clean again.”

I left with tears that didn’t fall,
But sat behind my every wall.
And when she looked at me that night,
She saw me whole, and not the fight.

She asked me why I stayed behind,
What I had needed there to find.
I gave a smile, I made it small—
Said, “Just a talk, that’s all, that’s all.”

She searched my face, but didn’t press,
Just held my silence, nothing less.
She knew that something lived inside,
But let it wait—she let me hide.

For love like hers and grace like this,
Are forged through pain, not only bliss.
And when I say “I do” that day,
I’ll know what sacrifice can weigh.

I gave a life I can’t reclaim,
But God still whispers through my shame:
“You are not broken—just made new,
And worthy of the love in view.”

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.