Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
Alone is a squirrel Who lives far beyond the garden wall Though “lives” feels much too ordinary a word For one that seems made From the restless music of the sun She comes in flashes Soft streaks of amber through the treeline Faster than a heart, finding love for the first time The world changes when she arrives Branches lean, morning slows I’ve watched her grasp her acorns As if they were small planets, Delicate, fragile, Turning them over and over in her small hands With care some reserve for prayers By god, the way she moves Moving as if the earth was designed Only to give her a beautiful place to run through Many a day, she’ll take a glance back at me Those moments ruin me so quietly Because her eyes caress that same feeling As hot windows in winter, As a forgotten poem remembered at night, As finding a glimpse of light after a hard day I believe love reveals itself like so: A creature, no bigger than a farthing Teaching one entire forest To be tender And if anyone dare ask why I continue returning to the garden I’ll tell them I simply like the trees I shall never admit That between the trees and fallen leaves, A small creature, Has made a home inside my chest
0
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 1:01 AM UTC
The French Squirrel
Alone is a squirrel Who lives far beyond the garden wall Though “lives” feels much too ordinary a word For one that seems made From the restless music of the sun She comes in flashes Soft streaks of amber through the treeline Faster than a heart, finding love for the first time The world changes when she arrives Branches lean, morning slows I’ve watched her grasp her acorns As if they were small planets, Delicate, fragile, Turning them over and over in her small hands With care some reserve for prayers By god, the way she moves Moving as if the earth was designed Only to give her a beautiful place to run through Many a day, she’ll take a glance back at me Those moments ruin me so quietly Because her eyes caress that same feeling As hot windows in winter, As a forgotten poem remembered at night, As finding a glimpse of light after a hard day I believe love reveals itself like so: A creature, no bigger than a farthing Teaching one entire forest To be tender And if anyone dare ask why I continue returning to the garden I’ll tell them I simply like the trees I shall never admit That between the trees and fallen leaves, A small creature, Has made a home inside my chest
**** is NOT about a squirrel
MatthiasB
Written by
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 1:01 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem