POETRY for TRISH 
The Acorn
I found an acorn,
lying upon the ground.
It seemed so small,
so ordinary.
I picked up that
small, brown seed
And put it in my
pocket.
I was just a boy
then, and didn't understand.
Some years later
I found that acorn.
It was still small,
still ordinary.
I planted that small,
brown seed,
And watered it, and
sheltered it.
I was just a boy
then, and didn't understand.
I found a young sapling
where I planted that acorn.
It seemed so weak,
so helpless.
I supported that
little tree, and fed it.
I was a young man
then, and understood.
A tall, stately oak
now stands
Where I planted that
small, brown seed.
And I understand
its meaning.
For that seed was
the love in our hearts
That I planted, and
fed, and nurtured.
It spreads its branches
wide across the sky
And shelters us as
we lie beneath them.
And I see a small
boy pick up an acorn
That dropped from
that tree.
And I smile.
By Barry, dedicated to Trish
Musical selection: Wind Beneath My Wings