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.