Friday, July 13, 2012

The Swan was a Cygnet

The swan steps into the lake.
Graceful neck, pretty feathers.
She floated with the gentle waves
As a small pair of eyes stares.

The ugly, little creature
Peers through the tall, green grasses
In admiration of pure.
Watching the swan of greatness.

In time, white feathers grow out
Of the little, ugly one.
Best she has come to know now:
She grows from cygnet to swan.

Your highest dreams can be met
For the swan was a cygnet.

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