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A water colour portrait of a black swan
Arched nostrils above its yellow beak
Inside its cold eyes-hope a glint of white
Neatly folded grey progressing to black wings
Each feather layered in perfect synch. Neat.
Yellow feet lurk in the shimmering water.

Top marks at school, but discarded 
To the garden shed, the coal bunker
Where winter fuel, dried and ripened
I found it and brought indoors and
Showed it to mum, asked who drew this?
Your sister. Already in awe, but couldn’t
Understand why this wasn’t treasured.

Sixty years on, your pedestal dissolved
Fallen. This swan an image of your self.
The yellow beak fooled for many years
The glint of the eye, slyness and deception
Your character’s like the body of the swan
Thirty percent below the line, a mystery

Souls, like swans, are to most pure white.   
Your soul personified by your own hand
In an A level water colour: Jet Black Swan.

David Cox 01/09/24












Discarded in the shed by the coal bunker
Black on black, in the dark and discarded
It’s yellow beak a contrast, hint of light

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