Dear Swan

I remember a silent sadness. It spoke of perfection. I wanted

To broach, but life is complicated. It may grow; and it may

Subside. Either/or, I proffer love; and saint to heart, a

Precious swan; and tear to eyes, I proffer love. The day

Will spring, a rhythm blue; and sky to earth, a felt motif. We

Try to sing—a cappella; but life dictates two; and please

Forgive, an absent love; and please embrace a present pulse.

My heart baroque, a chorus pride; and our duet, a pen and

Leaf. I hear you sing, a silent woe; and tear to God, a felt

Express. Some will see, a soaring swan; and some will fail,

A private song; and thus the voice, a need to speak, a fugue

Of dreams, a stalwart frame; and know the light, a hidden

Verse: a father’s pride: a mother’s sun. The opus sings, a

Grand appeal; and moon to soul, the strings of love.