The Branch

There stood a towering flaky tree

Gazing towards the sky, it gently looked at me

One branch waved goodbye.

Mother gradually called to me

The branch fell on thee

She felt like hot green tea.

Branches so full and tall

Felt like a twig

Flimsy, but ready to dig.

Hours steadily passed with much to know

“Attend what?” I asked and glow

Below is all a show.

I thought I had something good

But I misunderstood

Branches do not endure.