One Swan

May 25, 2008
By Linda Zheng, Regina, ZZ

Look, at her floating, gliding down the stream
Mute, unspoken, her voice is silent, hushed
One, solitary, lonely as it seems
Her patience, hence mild, oh naught to be rushed

Her beauty, so radiant, vivid in light
Her stance, thus elegant, one with such poise
She flies through the days, and soars through the night
She speaks of perception without one noise

She drifts near me yet always beyond reach
Like she is blessed so no soul can touch her
Her mind, what’s she thinking? What can she teach?
Quiet, yet confident, why is she so sure?

Lone fluff of the wings is the blush of dawn
She who resembles love, she who’s the swan


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