An acorn, which is just a seed
jumped off the tree to meet a weed.
The weed was wearing an attire
that set the acorn's heart on fire.
A cousin of the acorn wandered
onto the scene, his name was oak.
He, being chaste, never philandered
he was a rather boring bloke.
The oak was suddenly just seized
by a black bird of purple feather,
you understand the oak was cheesed
he had been waiting for wet weather
to find a spot on forest ground
to settle in miniature sprouts.
But now he was, damn, downward bound
and none would hear his desperate shouts.
Turns out the bird had indigestion
and lost the oakseed in midflight,
he landed, asked himself the question
what he would do and if he might
consider hiding his oak nose
until his feet had taken hold
from predators and all of those
who needed seeds to ward off cold.
So as he glanced around he saw
a pretty rose of red and yellow
impressed, he whispered oh and ah,
the rose looked over, said 'Hey, fellow,
what brings you to this neck o' woods
you normally belong inside
the forest but you have the goods
to stay right here where you can hide.'
The rose had petals and big leaves
and Oakseed liked the looks of her,
so they decided on the eve
of Autumn that a bit of fur
from passing hairy rats and mice,
that had been caught by rose's thorn
would be the thing to do and nice,
thus Oakseed felt like a re-born
and well regarded little seed.
Meanwhile the acorn, had progressed
in this, his time of carnal need,
to helping her build one fine nest
where they could snuggle in the snow
and be protected from the rain.
Meanwhile they both would thrive and grow
and later giant heights attain.
So, once again the forest had
looked after its inhabitants.
There is a logic, sound but sad
that favours the recalcitrants.
So, winter came, its bitter cold
severely tested all their powers,
they shivered some, but with their bold
and wondrous voices, in snow showers
they sang the kindred spirit song,
and all the creatures, all the trees
felt how the bond had grown so strong
the melody melted the freeze.
The words were clear and had been sung
throughout the ages by all lovers,
as Oakseed and the Acorn clung
to weed and roseleaves, as their covers.
'Over the rainbow', now was heard
and don't you doubt this tale of caring
and if you sing word after word
you'll thank this poet, yet, for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem