Mister Swan your countenance
is well known to this author but
each time I go to write about it
your blue eyes disappear
Mister Swan your exploits are
the stuff of dreams that I have dreamt but
each time I set my pen to paper
the ink won’t seem to flow
It is like a creeping water
still at first then dark fingers reach
to rest upon a weary head
and leave it cold and heavy
invade its thoughts with thunder
and black clouds gather
to shadow out the happiness
and infect the air with doubt
but unlike continental storms
this does not pass over
it settles in
LVX CREARE 