Arms of a friend

For Monterey Cypress
Origin: Mexico, South America

How many hearts have broken beneath your arms
How often have you wished that you could hold them.
Does it feel wasteful having so many limbs
and not being able to do as others do.
But rather stand stoic, as is expected.
Only to house, hold and endure.
How many times have you wished to pick up forgotten things?
Wished to fly, like the winged friends who come visit.
Perhaps a lovely stretch or rest would be well earned by this stage,
for it’s only natural that forever reaching could make one grow weary.
Perhaps instead of dreaming of lands from before,
you long for flight, or reaching unreachable things.
With age, height and absolute majesty, you have grown to love
the world moving as periphery, while you aim for sky.
Do you find relief in being a constant, while others flit, slow, and depart?
You are the closest to immortality,
and yet our disposable lives hold such power.
Are you angry when we dispose of things like they are us,
do you smile at our petty loves and injuries,
do you love us as we love you?

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