Loss of the Golden Flower
It was now several years ago,
my chivalry yet half-formed, ablaze,
and wishing to melt all reason down,
for the mind shall bar the heart's fool ways.
I gazed upon the blossom fair,
and at long last there grew a need,
to protect, preserve, and fawn upon,
though the wildflower did not take heed.
So strong she was, and I so blind,
to think that I could help her grow.
And pain it was - for I knew it!
But I never wished it to be so.
Spurned, a man is better,
to ride far and to ride free.
Please forgive me, golden flower,
for wishing to tend to thee.
Written 12 October 2018
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