A Tree Grows In Avignon

A Tree grows in Avignon Planted by a Soldiers hand, She slept, while Europe blazed. Bore silence through winters cull, Captured in darkness, there to laze Amongst the ruins of Avignon. Freed by the spring, Guarded by the sun. Born in thunders drench A seedling of hope for Avignon Gave witness to unjust death, Found her strength in summer’s breath. Drank the blood of murders shame, Grew fertile, her innocence to bear Seduced by the bees of Avignon Gave birth, to temptation Casting forth her gift, Amongst the ruin, While Children played, in her boughs. A new beginning, the bad forgotten Healing the scars of Avignon Taken confession, the old to cleanse, Listened to love, Their dreams to mend. Sheltered the lost, from Natures eye. Watched children grow, And the old men die, For she is the spirit of Avignon Planted by a soldiers hand, When dark clouds gathered A place of love, redemption tethered To forget the war And find his wife A tree of Life for Avignon Time moves on. The soul returns, And still she grows. Anonymous to a stranger’s eye, A cathedral of hope, a grannies smile. A tree of home. A tree that set us free, That tree that saved my Avignon.