The Boy in the Tree

For four years now I’ve driven past the Boy in the Tree
I don’t know who he was or why he means so much to me
But I remember well how my heart was filled with sorrow
The first day the flowers adorned that big tree so long ago.

They were fresh flowers then, a mute and poignant symbol of raw pain
There seemed to be two mourners who would never see the boy again
On the tree, exuberant floral bunches told of young love that ceased to be
And on the railing much darker flowers bore quiet and desperate testimony.

A mother’s loss I thought, borne as the worst of the blows
The tragedy of losing a child so deep only a mother knows
How many dreams and loving memories down the years
Were finally lost here forever, drowned in a mother’s tears?

Encircling the massive trunk as though with a lover’s arms
The bold beautiful flowers sang a requiem, whispered charms
Asking for safe passage to the land beyond, coloured indigo blue
The colour of healing, reaching out hopelessly, saying “I love you.”

How the days swiftly sped past as I travelled every day
Through summer, autumn came, and then winter held sway
And now finally the old oak at last seemed to join those left behind
Shedding leaves like sad tears, speaking of sorrow time out of mind.

When I passed I said a prayer for those caught up in this tragedy
And still the flowers changed each week, spoke of treasured memory
Summer returned, a year had gone and now new silk flowers on the tree,
A small brass nameplate, a wooden cross – love is true, they said to me.

Cards and blue ribbons wrapped the tree, a dark blue wreath the cross
Fluttering in the wind, carrying the sad and lonely tale of eternal loss
The flowers withstood the storms of winter, lasting through the rain
Reminding me of the Boy in the Tree and his lover’s and mother’s pain.

Last year I waited for the sad day, sometime late in November
On the boy’s anniversary, when those left behind would remember
All that he meant to them and keep burning love’s slow ember
Glorious new flowers on the tree, love eternal: all were stolen in December.

Day after day for another year in rush hour’s slow traffic I drove by
And each time I thought of the Boy in the Tree and wondered why
The thoughtless person who so heedlessly stole his lovely flowers
Had such a disregard for both grief and of life’s sad, unending hours.

This year the anniversary at the start of summer yet again arrives
But this time the grieving lover ensures the memorial survives
The blue ribbon is renewed and tied around two painted red hearts
The old oak tree stands, witness to a love that ne’er departs.

And yet as I go by I wonder still about the Boy in the Tree
And thinking back over the years it really seems to me
That maybe more than anguished memory he might now want to be free,
Let time heal the wounds still raw and hurting, so he can begin his next journey.