The tree apart

Alone, far from the settled crowd
of brothers, sisters and the rest,
I see them all, but from afar,
they within the family nest.

This field wherein I stand and weep
is cold and damp and makes me sad.
To stand here all alone like this
is quite the worst time to be had.

No leaves I have to wave hello
or noises like the winds might make
to tell the distant crowd I'm here,
or how my heart does ever break.

The rains and dew come damp of late
and help the cold provide
a shiver now, a moaning sound,
escaping me from deep inside.

It's said tomorrow there'll be sun
to shine – to quell my fears.
I'll see my people yonder still,
and through the pain, I'll dry my tears.

The birds will fly on in to sit, to sing,
among new leaves then growing
upon my branches, sad no more.
It's joy that I'll be knowing.

They said I was a special tree
that was to live apart.
I guess for each, there is a plan,
as for each stop, a start.

If you're a tree out in the world,
alone on some cold land,
remember that warm sun will come.
It's then that you will understand.