Where The Acorn Grows
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"This was inspired (kind of) by my reading 'The battle of the trees' in Robert Graves' book "The White Goddess" - Allen Ansell On the last day I went walking through a forest; Speaking to the trees. Great strong trees that listened to my fears, And rustled some soft applause… For they understood. The powerful mighty oak gave me first a leaf Showing Autumn’s sleep, Then an acorn to plant where I wished To see new life full flowing… For just a short while. The aged wind, it blew a kiss onto my cheeks Drying away tears… Caressing through my grey tussled hair… And then it too was taken… Fast and fleet away. The silver birch bent low, down towards my tired head Passing me his seeds… A million in one catkin, he said… Then wept, as they all were dead - As I soon would be. I lay me down to take my last and final breath Beneath a dark sky, Shaded by the understanding trees... And proudly walked head held high Straight towards the dark. Now, each day I plant a kiss on my children’s lips, Whilst they sleep at night… And guide my lover each and every day Towards life’s new beginning… When, too, comes her day… ...where the acorn grows. © Allen Ansell 2022
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