I thought I would grow by your side

back in that Paris that we made ours

even though I expected

to build it up on my own

and become one of the old trees from Monceau.

I did not even spend my days there, wondering,

as I had dreamed of when I first passed by,

way before you came into my way.

With no notice in advance,

you became tree and gardener.

Why did I even let you have that power

if you were not even strong enough?

Why did I let you go deep into my roots

and change the direction of those branches

that were frozen in the mist of a city

with lights that banished away,

cause I let them go?

And you turned into water and wind,

my source of life,

the invisible strings that pushed my by,

backwards and forwards.

I guess I did not believe I could be one of those trees,

by myself

and that may have be the reason

I let you in at first,

opening the doors of the Lutece

I had already been designing,

alone.

And now, that I am back home,

left with no Paris,

no gardener,

I look for my own water supplies

and I play with the wind,

I am not afraid anymore.

The breeze may be too strong for me at times,

but at least now there are no wires,

no ties,

no ropes holding me tight,

cause I am roots and branches,

a whole brand new tree.

I now decide whether I grow south or north,

facing east or west,

by the memories of that Monceau

in my own Paris,

now that I am home,

for the first time.

Alone,

by my side.

 

Builder, gardener, tree, dreamer…

 

 

 

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