The Memory of Trees

I wonder...do the trees remember me? Is the feeling of my feet, still as warm and soft as it once was? Is my breathing the calm and healthy spirit of the child that once ran here? Has the young man who scowled and frowned finally learned to smile and rest and relax?
I doubt it.
Can they see anything familiar in my movements through these empty corridors? Have I learnt anything in the time I've been away?
I feel their fear all too well.
And it seems to me, that it is up to me, to lay a hand, hot with energy and even anger, on the dry and dark bark that sucks at the dirt, and feels the hollow depth of an almost emptied Earth.