Helpless, the swan neck
moves against the rhythm of dead beat waves
another bus not on time, she needs no watch sitting there by the sun-
shine. This is good, I doubt she'd do much but laugh at those other
strangers who tell her of her likeness with beautiful, disastrous
power hungry sirens - but, of course - she is pure.

Helpless, lonely creature
next to her on the bus stop bench with bags
old eyes burnt dry, you don't need to sit there watching nothing-
come down. Be less what you are, I doubt she will listen when
the strangers plead at her feet to be whatever she can't be
be - but, of course - she is pure - raw amber.

Unmistakable, the swan
wings flutter like curious eyelashes against
the waves that crash, she needs none of all the time in the world
-be what you are.

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