If I were a swan
I'd be gone,*
my son, in his suffering,
sang,
long ago.
In memory,
down on the river,
a white swan glides,
bent neck, folded wing,
her mirror image
floating under her
on a river full
of sky and puffy clouds.
Still here, still suffering,
is my son,
who has forgotten
how to sing.
In memory,
that swan
is going
going
gone.
Mirror image
Chris Lowther photo
*Lyrics from the song by Pink Floyd
