My glass swan swims upon,
a placid, quiet lake.
Its fragile wings are spread apart,
how gracious its mistake -
To glide across the iced, still pool
that never holds a wave
And float forever stagnantly
upon its staidness saved.
The beauty and the calmness there,
within this ideal dream,
Rests forever, kept within,
the sameness of its stream.
Its safety then depends upon,
the stillness of the air,
The maintenance of its attitude,
the caution in its stare.
Its wings are kept within,
the borders of their bounds,
Never then to fly away,
escape this earth it found.
It's forever but, a piece of glass
gathered by some eye,
Ever but, my devoted bird,
sensitive and shy-
Kept away from danger's knock,
and every turning sea,
Resting like a song's sad note,
part of my menagerie!
By Linda A. Copp
© April 14, 1970
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