I'd like to be what you want
but I fall short.
Life has trimmed back my branches,
limiting my emotional reach.
I'd love to stretch out
to where you are,
catch you and carry you
above where you think you can go.
Yet I'm trapped by the twisted distortions
of my trunk, my withered leaves,
and gnarled arms,
and I hesitate to even offer you shelter.
So I stand silent
as your gentle wind
stirs my branches in vain.