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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