The Swan Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE

In silence she sails
Upon the silvery water,
So calm and still
By the bank of the weeping shore.

Where the wilting reeds
Hark unto their final call,
And bow with reluctance
Towards their solemn grave.

And there she rests within the shallows
Of the hushed amber glaze,
As the sun sinks gently
Into the glow of the evening sky.

So slowly she glides
Without a stir nor ripple,
Floating like an autumn leaf
That's moved by a whispered breeze.

A majestic silhouette
Against the burning hues of September,
That fade into the darkness
And the arms of the waiting night.

2011