Day seven and seven swans-a-swim …

I could not say that I had heard the sound

The swan makes as her final, farewell song

Until that fated Christmas came to pass

And I was gifted seven in full throng.


I never saw the beauty in a swan –

And rightly so it ne’er saw mine in me –

All poise atop the water it did flow,

And under, flailing limbs I could not see.


And likewise I was similarly made,

Composure, multi-facets I could show

But underneath I struggled all the while

To keep it so that no one else would know.


I hate the swan the way I hate the lies

And all the falsitude that it belies.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s