The seasons pass so quickly,
While age passes so slowly,
It seems like only yesterday,
That I was there.
I can still see the colours
Of the sunshine on the lake,
I can still see the white cob,
As he rose.
‘Do you remember when we spoke of swans?’
(Now I’m talking to myself,
That’s a sure sign of getting old)
I told you that they loved just once,
And when their partner dies,
They were destined to live on the lake alone.
You thought that was so very sad,
And I, at the time agreed,
Not knowing all those years ago –
I was talking about me.
© Fingleton (Feabhra 2018) (Löst Viking)