Interlocked fingers

On arms left and right

Are meant to hold each other

Like branches grown towards the sky

Furled together

Within themselves

Trickling bits of sunlight

Seeping through widowed branches

Hoping to meet a friend closer to

The ocean that says hi with drops

The tree desires to be close and yet

They can never be as such

But the promise of a touch

Is just as bright

As a a conviction, for convection

Reaching towards the light