If I were a tree, I should like to be an oak,
With mighty arms to embrace you,
And broad limbs to cloak you in shade.
I should like to sink my roots deep and firm,
So I could always be
Where you know to find me.
And if I should feel the axeman's bite,
I hope they mulch me into paper:
So I may return to you
As the pages of your favorite book
Or as a poem tucked into your pocket,
Close against the beat of your heart.