These arms are worthless

They are but twigs

Covered with dry moss

Easily trampled, broken

Back to dust, back to dirt

If I had the heart to care for you

My limbs couldn’t, wouldn’t lift

For lack of strength

I attempt to hold you

My arms create

A dry sound of snapping

Sapless branches


This is when you held me…back

Even though you could’ve

Easily broken me into bits

To become small sticks

Smashed to crumbles

Easing the way back

To the very ground

I love and adore, my safety place

The space twigs belong

The other end of the sprout

I’m shocked that

Your arms are red with life


And as I wiggle, attempting

To free myself, from being accepted

Your muscles squeeze.

I can only fall for you

Even though leaves have left

Me long ago, in search

For the green, they once felt

I am but sticks in a pile… you must know.

You decide to never let me go,    now…

The rain is returning

Pinecones fall, grouped together, grounded

Walnuts hit the earth, solid in shells

Plums gladly overripe, proving

I am to love you, as no other twig has.



20 thoughts on “Twigs

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