Sweet Fruit from a Bitter Tree

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I walked around the Pond of Swans,
after everyone had gone, 
the underbrush twiggy and bare,
nothing to offer comfort there.
I sought my solace in the sky.
It having no wise words to share,
the more alone was I.

And I am tired
from all the years,
of wandering this vale of tears.                    
Yet still green meadows will I seek,
there to await the sunny morn,
that follows  every season bleak
as it has since I was born.

I ask in turn the star-flung sky:
what and how and when and why?
It has no words to comfort me.
I must become the bitter tree
that bears sweet fruit for all to see,
in hopes they'll thus
remember me.

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Not sure where this little ditty popped up from. 
Dont worry, kids, I'm fine.  Just a bit tired. 

I am linking this to Poets United's Poetry Pantry this Sunday - do stop by. There is always a lot of great reading on Sunday in the Pantry!