Oh little acorn how sad you look all broken and forlorn,

As you lay beneath the branch of the tree where you were born.

A strong cruel wind came by one night and tore you from it’s grasp,

But do not feel sad little acorn, you have not breathed your last.

Your seed will scatter in the wind and settle in the ground.

Where you will lay for quite awhile and never hear a sound.

Then one day in the future, You will grow towards the sky,

Until you are strong and sturdy, and watch the world go by.

Then you will bear the acorns new, and stand so proud and staid,

To see your fruit fall in the wind to rest where you once laid.

John Ryan,
England.