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.