Analysis of Withdrawn

The crows are flying over,
A year runs down my face,
A feather lands on the sodden ground
In this dark secluded space.

The croaking crawls into my soul,
The tissues are running thin,
Rain drenches the timid spirit
Distressing deep within.

Craving for the essence of angels
By which the rain is slowing,
A rainbow reclaims it's pretty glory,
A breath in moments of knowing.

The absence of the blackened wings
Takes sunshine to a crystal dawn
Recovered through the passing of time,
My doubt already withdrawn.