The Swan


I am


brazen and hopeful

with wrinkled


I stop time

and drown the moon

dust I am




my eyes are wet

my sword is drawn

I turn to you

with purple dirt upon my face

I am the swan

of fairy tales

my neck is soft….




the stone beneath me speaks in volumes








19 thoughts on “The Swan”

      1. lets see….purple dirt… the first thing that comes to me is the purple satin sash that hung over the priests shoulders when i was a child… maybe its a kind of religious detritus…. the other thing that comes is a wipe from an angels paintbrush so it could be a blessing…. i smile because obviously I believe my poetry has some type of important symbolism but I don’t necessarily know what it is! x Thanks for asking I like the quest it leads me on 🙂


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