Well-intentioned Division

They seemed to step on flowers
With every step they took,
And vied about the hours,
The mood, the sound, the look.

With hearts of best intentions,
And love that budded well,
Despite hope, fond inventions,
A glimpse slipped in, of hell.

And each crushed flower grew callous,
More wary to receive,
Attempts to make a palace,
Good motives to believe.

Now lonely ways are followed,
Where flowers are not harmed,
Nor grow, nor sweetness swallowed,
Lack hopes, hearts would have warmed..

May sun shine on the pathways
Good people tread alone,
And bless the still-to come days,
Healing and joy to own.