Friday, January 14, 2011

The Swan

An autumn breeze
A rising sun
Just her life
As it begun

Has a die been cast
Can it be done
Can she be
The dearest one

No special place
No special song
In a world sometimes
Where she doesn’t belong

While she grows
My pretty one
She can’t be
With just anyone

In her pond and river
That goes upstream
She just passes through
As if in a dream

Don’t ruffle her plumage
This lovely one
With flights of fancy
That are only for fun

Dainty and gracious
But yet not to boast
She’ll blend well with others
But still unlike most

In puddles and ripples
She still wants to dance
It muddles and cripples
If she won’t take the chance

Not a bird of a feather
Where all seem so rife
Still charting her course
Through her river of life

Be like the lovely
And then just go on
You can be like the others
Or just be the swan

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