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