A Right Pair

When 2 swans herald to fly out north~

Their bright eyes beam in fits of splash~

While others split to form a runway~

Leading out to green, open tundra~

But zeal can often be the plight of fools~

As in their romance their sight fell short~

Too short to see the rising pile-on’s rack~

Shattering wing, Splitting their wish-bone dream.~

As the sting of cliché dawned upon them~

One half, broke off and promised to return.~

But barely had the moon waned out for dawn~

When he came waddling back, his own wing limp~

Now wondering if there’s more to do~

Than glide around in darkness as a 2~

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