A serendipitous song as if sang by a swan.
Arch neck yet love aside all along.
The duality of love melodically thronged.
Unable to see the mate even when singing along.
Their love seemingly has lived a lifelong.
The melody has no sense of right nor wrong.
When in shadows of the moon the reflection glistens strong.
For brief moments they unite and belong.
The glimmering hope in the blind swans' eyes bespoke.
For a love song with a chorus broke.
By the blind swan during the reception of the mates dote.
Their love and union are indeed in the state of yolk.
And the rhythm with more ferocity than Vivaldi or Beethoven ever wrote.
For in them adoration was awoke.
A love that the stars hope will last until they croak.
Yet the blind swan's wings clipped.
A product of a hunt beginning in an eclipse.
Yet passing ships, watch on as the necks dip listening to the love songs script.
The blind swan and the mate rift.
Until one day melodically with pure intention the mates voice begins to lift.
And the blind swan that was once adrift.
Realises that even without sight she has the vision of love the one true gift.
As rain pours and trickles down the swan masking tears.
The image of the mate appears.
And the blind swan steers.
And though she never will fly.
The two lovers are once again
The two lovers are once again in one another's mind's eye.