I wish I could write poetry.
At least I could write some mock poetry.

The Seed

A seed is a constant wonder to me,
When I cut open and see
I find nothing interesting inside;
But when sown it gives out
Beautiful flowers or delicious fruits.
Where all those gorgeous colours, sweet scents
And delicious tastes do come from?
Is it in the earth?
I desperately dig into earth;
But even there I find nothing
That could give any clue to my puzzle.
How mysterious! Oh, how mysterious !
And yet, and yet
How down to earth !

(Note: This piece was read over the BBC as part of the most interesting letter of the week over 30 years ago.)