Slender as a winter's tree;
I miss the shape of your body

The melody hung
like a burnt echo in the air

A swan's song mirrored
My deepest despair

How gentle it was
Her soft mellow ring

On the banks of the shore
It was only spring


The dawn of the season
Does not mark life's death

Though her song still echoed
As she laid to rest


The flowers spread
On the ground like a disease

Their infection hollowed
The moon's glistening


The gentle swan's song
The beauty of its despair

Mirrored the tragicomedy
Of romance's fair


Once spring has come
A swan does not die

Yet upon the shore
She surely did lie
As her death's melody
Came to me in a chime

I felt that her song
Was a reflection of mine



Twilight breaks
Through night's still skies

I have walked these shores
In many lives

In each I return
My veil softly hung

In sorrow for the swan
Whose last song is sung

A mirrored reflection of a faded ash sky
Reversed and dulled
It is the majesty of the night
Disguised by false truth
With a simple gesture of the eye
Its true colours can be seen
A sun lying to rest upon its horizon
The glow of light, the warmth of day
Dancing so faintly
Injecting fusions of pink upon night's purple dawning
In its reflection there is no such beauty
Where is the truth within a mirror
In the sunset of ones soul