The Squirrel.

See the squirrel, see him scurry,
Seems he’s always, in a hurry.
Foraging for nuts and seeds,
He has to store them,for his needs.
For Spring is over,Summers gone,
He knows the Winter will be long.
The days of plenty they are past,
He needs to hoard,he cannot fast.
He doesn’t hibernate like others,
For him each day is like another.
He must have food, else he will die,
And bring a tear unto our eye.
We who see him every day,
Scurrying the hours away.


very interesting. you are knowledgeable too.
you are able to vent your feeling in creative writing. this is why your writings are always fantastic.
How can you do that?
Thank you.

Good evening Richard. Happy to see you on the Forum tonight.

How do I do it? I don’t know.

They are simple lines really, and I’m sure that you could do as well.

My primary reason for bursting into prose and half-finished stories is to encourage others to try their hands.

I hope that I have whetted your interest enough to tempt you to give it a try.

C’mon guys and gals, give it a try. I’m sure you would enjoy taxing your imaginations.