Red, Black and Gold: We Sisters Three

We used to play chase through verdant woods - just us sisters three;
laughter zigzagging between wide oaks - as wild and free as could be.
Long hair flowed behind in red, black and gold,
like wind lifting capes only worn by the bold.
Our bare feet galloped over gnarly roots, landing on soft earth.
But fantasy faded when we grew up - hardening our mirth.

Sister red would cross thundering streams, to face “a witch morphed into bear”.
Sister gold would warmly hold our hand, her joy removing despair.
Sister black - curiously asking “why?”, seeking explanations for every leaf.
Despite her wisdom - still unaware - that magic wanes, revealing something called grief.

Tangled in romance, one sister dimmed - stopped shining like the sun.
The contrasting nights had become too harrowing, removing all her fun.
She cut her hair short and hid in a cave, away from all daylight.
Too frightened to face any man, she vanished from our sight.

But a stranger arrived, frantically seeking locks of blonde hair -
he burned the whole forest down, enraged she wasn't there.
In she charged - our sister with a fiery head - calling him cursed names.
They battled with fury, and though she won, she was swallowed by the flames.

The threat was gone, but so were two sisters - all that remained was one numbed in black,
with charred ashes slipping through her fingers, wondering how she'd ever bring them back.