The Last Acorn

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Dear soil of the Earth, 
     please hide me. I'm the last one left!
     I repeat once more, the last one left!
        I have no legs to crawl and hide.

      And I'm so easy to spot when I fall. 
       Squirrels with perked-up whiskers 
       pick up my scent. I'm a perennial
   favorite of theirs, you see. I'm a snack... 

      they enjoy munching on. Or perhaps 
   more than a snack? Aren't I all they eat?
       Let there be a gale so I'll be blown 
         far out of sight. I'm target no. 1!

           Let there be a raging flood to
  wash me away. Why do I always feel like
      a sitting duck? God willing, I'll grow
 into an oak tree before a squirrel finds me!

  I hate feeling the sharp teeth of a rodent 
digging into me. Oh, the anxiety! The horror! 
   The dreadful anticipation! What the hell
makes me so edible anyway? I have no taste!


Submitted for....
The Last 1 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco 
Date written: 12/02/2020

Date originally written: 04/18/2020

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John Watt

Date: 5/7/2020 8:02:00 PM

Clever personification of the poor defenseless acorn. I've wondered that too, what do squirrels find so attractive about acorns? It can't be the taste... Well done and congrats ~ John

Edward Ibeh
Date: 5/7/2020 11:11:00 PM

Thank you so much, John:-) I guess we'll never know, lol.

Sam Kauffman

Date: 5/7/2020 7:03:00 PM

You built the poem to its conclusion with such anxious energy - wonderful release! So creative my friend. Congratulations on your win. This is quite delightful!

Edward Ibeh
Date: 5/7/2020 7:05:00 PM

Thank you so much, Sam:-) Congrats to you as well!