Here I am, a Native Son,
Resisting the invasion that has begun.
I am small and shades of brown.
Now there are some Greys in town.
I run along the fence, so quickly,
Much faster than in a tree.
My name is Walter Earle,
I am a Native Washington Squirrel,
Not a Chipmunk, I must say
But a Native Squirrel, every day.
The invasion came, years ago.
Not sure how, but they did show.
Grey Squirrels, coming from the East,
Eating our food; it was a feast.
I fight very hard for specie survival
Against the Grey, my arch rival.
Who will win, that's hard to say,
But I know that I'm here to stay.
Where are you now, my mysterious child.
We met years ago, when we were wild.
In an age when long hair was offensive,
While the romance at times was pensive.
Do you remember the longest hair,
Bell bottom pants, tie dyed shirts to wear?
Those times of so called "Free Love"
With alcohol infused thoughts not from above,
Determined our views between right or wrong,
Many of our words became a protest song.
I don't wish to write about Politics.
I do want to comment on the dirty tricks.
I know for me, it's been awhile,
But Politics are so juvenile.
When lies are truths, according to them,
My mind coughs to get rid of mental phlegm.
Tell me please, what you will do.
Don't disparage all your opposition,
I only care about your personal opinion.