See that tree all alone,
that tree is just like my home.
Other trees growing near, haven’t changed a bit in years,
All our roots are planted deep
I guess mine’s just a little weak
through wind and storms these trees stay stout
except for mine it moves about.
Hurricanes fail to knock them down
but mine now bends close to the ground.
In spring little nests are often found
in all the trees that are around,
except for mine it isn’t fair
for my tree its weight it cannot bear
I watch her arms reaching high
reaching outward in the sky
God knows this tree is like my home
and is the reason I’ll never roam
I must watch her everyday
and then at night I must pray.
I pray she’ll see me through and through
for there isn’t much else that I can do.
By Meredith J Weir 1969 all rights reserved.
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