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There once was a lady by the name of Ladylove,
who was said to be a saint sent from above.
But no one knew just who she was;
a ghost indeed was she, was she.
She approached a swain one day, one sorrowful day;
stealing his heart as she ran away.
She left with a flutter in a moonlit still,
her beauty graces her for a splendid time.
She haste to a pond of midnight glow,
a lad soon followed as he watched her go.
She looked in his eyes with sadness there,
looking away as she's engulfed in light.
She step a foot in glistening water still,
meandering a swan not by will.
The boy he haste to grasp her hand,
letting his love guide as they shift to swans;
he a swan of black and she white,
they soar now into the ever moonlight.
The story now told of a love everlasting,
of two young swans, on moonlit casting.
-Adam M. Snow
If you like this poem, please check out any of my other poems