New Friend
I found a pine cone and his name is Rodger.
He calls himself the artful dodger.
He’s not very tall and he’s lost some weight.
I saw him by an old run down gate.
He spoke to me and to my hands did leap.
He’s the only pine cone that I’ll keep.
He told me of the friends he’d had.
And the other cones he knew as a lad.
He told me of the great big tree.
It wasn’t his scene, he said, “It just ain’t me.”
The choice was his, so to the ground he fell.
Now that’s it, I’ve got a story to tell.
I’ve got a new friend, I’m not alone.
He’s my buddy, my little pine cone.