Little Dark Age

She has flourished into a flower that has bled, Far along from a sprout who desired protection from the soil bed Petals soft and bright deceives the eye, Ahead a winter that shall let it die Long and frigid, suffocating warmth of the nurturer — Became the saddened time and loss of his little girl A youth decaying, making way for the adolescence, The rigid years of painful processes He yearns to cradle her a last time. She yearns for comforting care, To comb through the knots in her golden hair A lively childhood fading, the sparkle left behind — Became her little dark age and purpose she must find Reclusive and damaging, closing off a child’s love — Ahead a guilt that shall halt the flight of a dove Feathers wilted and thin breaks the strength, Far along the ability to atone and bring back a love’s length She has flourished into a flower that has bled.