Long The Person Still Am I

The tallest tree I know reached
all the way up to the sky.
I was sure that I could touch a cloud
if I could climb that high.
But even then I knew those limbs
too thin to hold my weight,
would break their bows
to keep me held in gravity's estate.
 I'd look with longing through them,
sure the highest branches felt
just the lightest touch of heaven
as the whole of heaven knelt
down to look upon my broken
little heart and mud smudged face.
And I'd say a prayer to see a glimpse
of who was in that place.
Oh the whistfulness of childhood;
letting go, but holding on
sure the miracle is coming,
sure this time it won't be long.
The years have passed, and I
still keep my face turned to the sky;
the mud is gone, the girl is long
the person still am I.