Bandaid: A Collection Of Poems

the tree

I stand at the tree's twisted roots and look up to its leaves
It stretches into the sky for what seems like millions of miles
I place my hand on the mossy bark and close my eyes, asking it to tell me it's stories
It's branches reach for the clouds like contorted arms, spiraling upwards with no second thought
I open my eyes and whisper
"Can you show me how to do that?"