Purple

The beautiful bud grows there, he says

Pointing to an undefined horizon.

Perplexed I look at him

The light of his smile guides my way

But all I can see is dried up grass, stunted trees, 

burnt shrubs, withered flowers and rotten leaves

How will I tell him that

"Come on" he whispers

The image of dryness fails to leave me

I close my eyes and i can feel it.

Deep within the withered bud has bloomed

It is taking roots in me

Brown in colour, it turns black by the passing day

We continue, the purple flower will bloom some day...he says

But I can't remember how purple looked

I can't summon a memory of purple

I look into those gleaming eyes, with dried ones of my own

Purple...Black, purple... Black...

Purple.....

Purple... It's not black I know

Something brighter, something lighter...what is purple.?

The purple flower will bloom some day, he says

And this time, I want to believe him

And so I do.

A tiny firefly sits on the withered blooming bud

And for a split second, I think I saw purple.