Thursday, 26 May 2011

The White Swan Lake 
I stand here watching all alone,
As white swans caress the waters below.
The sun is setting and the skies are red,
The clouds, they grow darker above my head.
A note in my hand, crinkled and torn,
That will be found by tomorrow’s morn.
Again I take another glance,
At those swans as they dance.
A love so beautiful and so pure,
One I hoped I had endured.
But now I stand here alone and sad,
With no one to miss me, for that I’m glad.
Now a breeze does blow,
And I let the paper slip below.
From my fingers I watch it fall,
All my dreams, and love, all and all.
Now the decision I’ll have to make,
Weather to live, or die, at white swan lake.

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