My glass swan
sits above the computer now
so I can still look at it often.
Its first home was my bedroom
when I was a child. It lived
on top of the bookshelf then.
The top (or back) is a lid.
I keep, inside the cavity of its body,
soft, very tiny feathers.
It shows me all the serenity,
grace and beauty
I always longed to have.
It is like a promise …
though I’m sad to see that one wing
has become chipped.
But in a long life, that is perhaps
to be expected. Its calm beauty,
nevertheless, remains.
.
Submitted for dVerse Meeting the Bar — poems about things.
