The Lonely Tree

A poor little tree standing all alone,
Swaying in the breeze, all on his own,
His leaves are blowing on a sunny, calm day,
As if he was happy in some kind of way.

As time passes on and the day goes by,
The poor little tree looks ready to cry,
The sky goes darker and the clouds turn grey,
He doesn't seem as happy, he is blowing away.

As it comes to an end and day turns to night,
The poor little tree gets a bit of a fright,
Standing on his own with no-one else around,
He is stuck on his own, planted in the ground.
Sinead Mc Cormick