She sits underneath the trees, tears trickling down her face
The swans of pure swim in the water before her
Heaven's doves fly above her head
Her tears fall into the lake of grace
A section of the lake turns into a deep sapphire instead of its usual crystal blue
The result of grace mixed with sorrow
Oh, how she wants to be one of the swans of purity
Or one of the heavenly doves
But all she will ever be is an ugly grey duckling
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l o v e & n o s t a l g i a » poetry
Poetrya collection of heartbreak, childhood nostalgia, and the peaceful moments that come from simple things