where the writers are
The Daffodil

Once upon a time, high upon a hill,

Lived wild and carefree, a yellow daffodil,

Filled with peace and love, joyful in her home,

Nestled in contentment, with other flowers she's known,

She looked out on the lake and the meadow stretching wide,

Filled with waves of color, life burrowed down inside,

She stretched and yawned and danced, and looked up to the sky,

Then smiled her cheery smile to clouds that lingered by,

Surrounded by her friends, complete without a care,

She basked in happy sunshine, moments rich and rare,

And then one day it happened, someone came along,

And plucked our happy flower from the earth where she belonged,

And took her to a prison with walls of glass and cold,

And placed her roots in water, drowning her I'm told,

Gone were all the friends who danced with her all day,

Gone were painted skies, no more to guard her day,

Gone the lake of glass, gleaming in the sun,

Gone the roving meadows, grasses swept with fun,

She struggles with her life, her spirit drained and gone,

Waiting now for death, the end will not be long.

(Written shortly before I entered recovery)