• On Oak and Old Days •
When I was young, I'd regard oak as my favorite tree. Their voluminous head with sturdy branches outstretched among the scrawny pines. What I loved most was their fruit, acorns, though they're poisonous when raw. By the end of autumn they'd hit the ground and that's when I took them home. Brown acorns with cute woody cups or cupules always appeared cute; noble. And I'd pierce their plain face to make eyes and fill those with kneaded white flour which I'd steal from the kitchen. Then I'd make them sit on the side table of my bed. We'd talk, though they never answered.
Now, I'm far from that place. Far from memories. From childhood. And at some nights when I open my old diary, I start missing my tiny friends. Then I say I'm matured but I also know that memories have no age. And age is ageless.

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IN A NUTSHELL!!!🌰





Even an Oak tree begins its journey as a tiny Acorn!!

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Only the Visionary can see an oak tree 🌳 in the acorn.

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You don't see an oak tree in acorn until it's became the Giant.

Everything take time. Trust the Process. Beleive in the Universe. Keep Patience.

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