It grew in a purple madness
Perhaps at the joy of having him
Close enough to hide him in its shade.
He was just a guest, a tourist
And he also made a remark about
"The pallid splendor of this savage beauty"
And how he’d love to
Plant it in his backyard.
The tree sighed,
And shook its branches to bathe him
In blossoms.
In the evening, he left
Without a word.
The violet, bloody now, in the sunset,
Stood nude, perplexed,
Its garments stretched out on the floor –
A royal carpet for him to walk on,
Not to walk away!
That early morning, we found
It moist from last night’s weeping
And all around us,
Purple tears.
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