Child Maturation

Oh, blooming young rose,

How could you ever know?

The symbols I behold

In your darkened red glow.

Oh, blooming young rose,

Unaware of the view,

Or heedless to the sight,

When lovers dream of you.

Oh, blooming young rose,

May I take you from here?

From where there is no joy

To where there is no fear.

In the darkness lies an innocent ignorance of me.

With the light and this pen, I am driven to be free.