Poems by My ObsE.R.vation

I had a little seed that I had found upon the ground,
I kept it in my pocket where it was safe and sound.
What may it be, this tiny little seed, now tucked inside my cloak,
could it be a sugar maple, or perhaps a mighty oak?
How will I know just what it is, this little seed of mine?
Maybe it's a cherry tree, a weeping willow, or a pine.
There is one way that I can know what this seed will be,
I'll dig a hole within the ground, place it there and see.
I'll cover it with soil, some compost, and some peat,
I'll pat it down quite firmly with my shovel then my feet.
I'll add a lot of water some sunshine and some love,
that when it sprouts and grows quite tall, it's bough may house a dove. 
Every day I came to see the progress of my seed,
but every day to my dismay I only seen some weeds.
A week, a month, a year went by, and still there was no sign,
there was no sprout, nor growth, nor life to that little seed of mine.
"Did I do wrong", I sadly thought, "when I placed it in the ground"?
Was it a waste of time and work to try to sow what I had found?
Perhaps I made the soil too wet, causing my seed to die,
or maybe there was a lack of sun, dark clouds across the sky.
Will I ever know what kind of tree my seed will prove to be? Will I ever really find out?
I thought then perhaps that this was the end, and despairingly started to doubt.
Then, late at night when I was asleep, at a time I did not know,
the little seed I had placed in the ground slowly started to grow.
Year after year it grew more and more, into a beautiful pine,
and I rejoiced to have lived to see the kind of tree that came from that little seed of mine.
Though now I am gone, my tree it still stands, from the seed I had planted with love,
and way up high on one of its boughs is the home of a handsome white dove.