The Purple Tree
by Plynn Gutman
We walk together
miles apart,
spring fresh in the April air,
feet keeping time
despite our silence, his conflict,
the change from boy to man
holding me at bay.
Then, in unison, we stop,
breathe as one in the splendor
of an enormous tree,
its craggy branches
a profusion of purple flowers.
Thousands of tiny petals
drift like snowflakes
into lavender pools
beneath the tree.
I slide my hand around his waist –
for a moment
there are no miles,
between us.
Years have passed,
yet we still recall
that day –
that purple tree.
Plynn Gutman 