The Swan
THE SWAN
Sitting over the tranquility of the quiet waters
With a spray of soft wind blowing across
Surrounded by grasslands and tall trees
She enjoyed the conditions in a peaceful spree
Of the setting sun ending his course
For the day, heading straight to his quarters
On the purple background of the sky, the clouds
Followed in a traffic of pink and white shadows
After the orange sun towards the calling west
She paddles her feet below her wet fluffy chest
With her neck like a lone daffodil in the meadows
Her silence is the voice of grace, which beauty proclaimed loud.
Copyright © Alfred Soetan | Year Posted 2006
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