In a hollow tree on a hillside,
shaded by the leaves above,
waits a message for a wanderer
put there long ago by a little girl now dead.
And someday someone will find it
and receive the gift of that childish heart.
Someone who needs it and will cherish it.
The child is gone, and her children are grown
and grandchildren approaching grown too.
But the message waits in the hollow tree
for some hand to find.
And it says,
“Today I picked a flower in the field.
There was just one.
And I gave it to a friend who liked it, like me.
And I thought
I’d like to give something
to a friend I may never know.
So I’m writing this note to tell you,
whoever you are,
I love you and I’m your friend.”
