Catchwater

A Stricken, Bested Swan,

With tainted feather wode,

Through endless glacial lakes of wonder,

Through endless lakes of gold.

Yet she did not make a vengeful ripple,

Nor a cackled, jealous call,

For the Brave and Cunning Silver Fish,

Her breast he did appall,

And as he surfaced for a taste,

Of chilling, musky air,

She cast her gaze upon a hope,

That she would dare to snare,

With Poignant eye and Steady beak,

She plunged -

Driving despairingly down into the depths of hurt,

Drowning herself in what she craved most..

But alas it was a miss.

A Stricken, Blackened Swan,

With tainted feather wades,

Through endless glacial lakes of wonder,

Through Endless lakes of Gold