The sky was a canvas of violet and gold, as the sun prepared to set.
“It’s a different shade every day. So beautiful, don’t you think?” asked the Cross to the Tree.
The Tree swayed in silence, looking up.
It was a first, this conversation between the Tree and the Cross which stood upon the church top. The Cross that had stood lonely for so long, that it thought it a good idea to make a new friend, and had invited the Tree for a twilight chat.
The Tree was a young cherry tree, who had reached the height of the Cross, but a few weeks ago.
“So for how long have you been here?” said the Tree ignoring the Cross’ question.
“600 years,” answered the Cross, “I have stood here through three wars, and seven generations of kings. Giving people hope and shelter.”
The sky was turning a dark indigo as the rays of the sun bid adieu.
The Tree looked around impatiently. “Where are the Owls?” wondered the Tree. They were fun and full of wit.
“What do you dream of?” The Cross said interrupting the thoughts of the Tree.
“I don’t know,” replied the Tree with irritation in its tone, “maybe to reach for the skies, and not stay in the same place for 600 years.”
“Ah!” nodded the Cross with a smile. “Do remember me when you reach those heights. For I will stay right here, for those who need me near.”