A little sapling

Poem about a sapling I planted in my childhood

I planted a little sapling,
With high expectations...
Every morning I ran to it
To look whether it has grown;

I watered it every day,
I loved it in my own way,
Wondering when will it sprout,
Will it become a tree, still I have doubt.

I ran to it daily,
But my poor sapling was dead
Could it be my folly,
I mourned for a bit.

I plucked the sapling daily
To see whether it has rooted,
My poor sapling was dead,
Mistake of my innocent childhood.