Younger days.
A cottage so sweet,
Filled with flowers.
Daisies, roses, daffodils, and lilies.
Only a white picket fence.
The fence came down with one word.
Build a brick wall,
Was what was said in her head.
It was built around the cottage,
After the daffodils died.
A visitor came,
And was let in the cottage.
He hurt her,
And left.
After the wall cracked,
It still stood,
but weak.
Then a second visitor,
Was invited again.
After he left the wall fell,
And the lilies and daisies both died.
The wall came back,
Higher,
Built with concrete block.
A sales man,
Smooth and handsome,
Was invited,
In a cautious manor.
The walls disappeared,
Over a short period of time.
He came every day.
The shutters stayed open,
So to see him walk in.
That man
stopped coming
And turned
Into a harsh soul.
The shutters stayed open,
Out of fear.
Concrete walls started to form.
After she had cried,
He left.
Now the walls stand
higher,
And steal
Replaced the concrete.
The shutters closed.
The roses died.
The cottage,
Now morose,
No longer sweet,
No longer seen.
The steal walls,
Should protect,
Her heart
her spirit,
and her pride.
But the wall,
Was put up too late
To protect
The roses.
