For this is a swan song.
A final curtain call.
Never seen a dead swan lain on the river bank.
Wondering where they go to die.
A sweet song for swans written.
An exercise in eloquence.
Bedecked in full white plumage.
In elegance she glides, as they glide, a family.
With their swan lake family.
Pen floats next to cob swan with cygnets dancing alongside.
Protected creatures cosseted, for Ma'am of the realm.
These ugly ducklings grew into quilted passions.
A passion of beautiful aggression is what we will receive.
Should we stupidly disturb?
These beauteous, arrogant tranquil birds.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)