Acorn shell in oak bark lichen

 

Hundred year old woman
Acres and bushels and fathoms of words,
furlongs of words have I,
and all of them painful but all of them true,
and all from a world gone by.
Who knows, when all of my loved ones are gone
and all of my enemies dead,
who remembers the world as it used to be
back when I am what I said.