A squirrel found; a half-dead baby
Had fallen from the large oak tree.
Placed gently in a box on a bed of cloth
And cared for until he could be free.





The time came to sadly open the cage
As he took time for a special good-bye.
From one to another and back again,
I'm sure he said thanks, he really did try.





Greyson moved slowly toward the tree,
Not sure that this was the way;
Slowly he climbed as his "family" cried
And looked back for their final OK.





He stayed in the tree about half way up,
Scampered back at the sound of a voice;
He saw his new world from his chosen limb
Until the wild was no longer a choice.





Greyson came no more, had forsaken his tree
Joined the others that looked the same;
I'm sure he's around keeping his distance,
I wonder if maybe he remembers his name?