TREE

(Blenda studio)

(a poem by 11 years old Emma)

Once upon a time,

A little tiny acorn,

Passed on the wind,

And past the mouths of many squirrels.

The adventure of a lifetime,

Until it stops,

And there is only darkness,

Buried under heaps of soil,

And there is nothing left to do,

But sit and wait.

After what seemed like a hundred years,

Something soft and warm picks it up,

Cradles it,

Up, into the sunlight,

A brief moment of freedom.

A moment that doesn't last.

It is hidden away,

Under more moist soil.

The little seedling grows,

Tall, wise and strong.

And little birds still sing in it's branches,

Of freedom and joy,

That the little tree dreamed of.

(Emma Dimitrova, my 11 years old daughter, 5/4/20)