I will dream of walking to you,
But surely, I would die,
Before my thought caressed your face.
Before they hit the ground,
those tears you cry.

If I were to sprute arms like sprungs
On a fork, I would reach you.
I would teach you about the light
On which I live each day.
The wind would lessen its push like
a waterfall of earth.
And I would remain standing.