When you were gone

we planted a young tree

in memory

and twenty years later

I wonder how you've grown

Are you a gentle birch

sighing on the breeze

or an apple bearing maiden

or a larch with golden leaves

Maybe you are a willow

with trailing veils and skirts

or a fragrant pine

or a somber elm

or an ash with spinning keys

I will return

I'll come alone

and sit within your shade

a tree it is eternal

a poem

not a grave