Long Gone Bard Girl

Grown from seed she was

Certain of blooms

In the first morning’s bright hour

Cracked and tender

A house that stood to weather

Could not contain her spirit too

Burst forth from the Earth she did

With sprite and vain glory

So certain of the angels

Born of every flower

She stacked the stones

Managed finer shoots from her bones

Made shadows angrier soon

Long vines that kept growing she had

And a heart burning whiter

Winters wrapped in clenched teeth

A garden tempted to sour

She clawed back through the mire

Petals dripped upon nectared spire

What looms heaviest, used