She looked up and saw them wave,
the leaves at the very top of
the cherry tree.
Don’t wave at me like that.
I don’t know you.
I live on the ground.
The top of the tree is your home,
the branches are your family.
Don’t wave at me.
Are you beckoning me to climb?
I can’t leave this solid ground.
My branches would miss me.
Your swaying and dancing tempt me though.
Sometimes I wonder what it’s like up there.
Stop waving at me!
Give me time to think and learn.
Grant me security before I go.
I’m not ready. Don’t wave at me!
I want more time for this love and laughter,
but I’ll be there, I know.
Winter will not sneak up on me.
—Caroline Reid
