Wimpy Tree

The withered tree
Up on the hill is waiting for the sun
She reaches out, and grasps a cloud
To keep herself all warm

Leafless branches, cold dry bark
She stands tall and proud
Waiting for winter end
And the long full spring sun

Reaching out her small brown branch
and popping that small cloud
Giving way, that cloud that day
Swollen droplets fall
Washing away that short winter day

Proud to be, a small withered tree
She watches the cold melt
As spring soon starts to fling
She knew it was from her doing

Blooming blossoms, big thick leaves
She has now grown so tall
Standing in that breeze, and proud to be
That once small wimpy tree.