My Little Girl Or Yours

At the end of a family line she is lost on a bare branch that leads nowhere, A twig extended into just sky is her last journey it is a finger pointing at an unmarked end. I imagine her a lost little girl, somebody's orphan or castaway. When that child cries (which is often), for the totally lost are inconsolable, then, I wake up in that emptiness where nothing branches I mind-crawl as near as I can get to her. The closer I get the more a cold wind roars until that tree of far flung relationship's sways back and forth. I try to keep calm, call to her as if she were a cat I were trying to coax down from a high place. She is always looking away from me. I think she hears my voice I am sure she knows me, but how and from where? I can't hold on to this slim rocking branch any longer and have to edge back to where the limbs are thick and strong. As I retreat slowly she fades away or is it I that fades? She has no recorded history but we are definitely both on the same DNA ladder only some rungs are broken and they can never now be mended.