I reach out my arms
to hug a tree.

I hug a tree
because it’s a hundred years old
and it has never been kissed
or even asked out
of this lonely wood.

I hug a tree
because its only friend
is five feet away and
they never speak.

I hug a tree
because it has never been offered
a blanket,
an umbrella
or a boy’s suit jacket
when it’s cold
or rainy outside.

I hug a tree
because it never tells truth
when someone asks
how it feels
to be different.

I hug a tree
because it has never felt at home
when the nights are cold
and there’s no one to wake up to.

I hug a tree
because it has never known
the real meaning of 
the word love.

I hug a tree
because I understand.