Reflections from the Poettree

Gentle breeze whistling through the leaves
We fill branches, but the tree never shows any semblance of a burden borne
As they climb higher, fingertip grips are all we have to go on
We'd all do anything to keep from falling
Meanwhile, I've found my niche, a low place to lay out and take it all in
Calm, relaxed, I gaze up at everyone I've looked out for
Brothers I brought along for the ride, sisters I shed tears with,
Lost love and found friends with never a mind for authority...
Now, I cannot claim the brilliance of planting this tree,
But I found myself drawn to its roots
And somehow, a family found its roots in me
Here on my last days in these parts,
I feel a nagging sense of unfulfillment-
That I didn't do enough for those who needed nothing from me
And maybe it's just self-importance, but I hope I matter to them
I hope that, as they continue to ascend, they'll remember who stayed behind
And remember him fondly- their patriarch, their poet
But that they then continue on their ways to biggers and betters
Also to know that as the air thins and they lose sight of the ground,
I'll do what I can to keep the bottom strong for them...
And though we may later descend, though foliage may fall,
Our moments, our memories, our hearts stay fast...
The tree lives on