Though through the valley
Ran she oft
(The others caused it so)
On occasion
They would be
The staff that for her glows
His father neither
Spoke unkindly
To a soul nor ear
Yet he was needed
Someplace further
Far away from here
And raindrops fell
Through cloudless skies
Until the moon arose
And glist'ning inkwells
Fell to paper
Falling into prose
And we emerged into a life of vivid yellow rose.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 10:50 AM UTC
Though through the valley
Ran she oft
(The others caused it so)
On occasion
They would be
The staff that for her glows
His father neither
Spoke unkindly
To a soul nor ear
Yet he was needed
Someplace further
Far away from here
And raindrops fell
Through cloudless skies
Until the moon arose
And glist'ning inkwells
Fell to paper
Falling into prose
And we emerged into a life of vivid yellow rose.
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