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A dark mist swept the winters glade,
so silent in pearlescent moonlight.
Enshrouding the meadow in mild cold,
that nips at the flesh.
Once upon this wondrous garden,
the beautiful swan dance and sang.
Fluttering her graceful, soft wings,
in unison with the sway of the wind.
Her form so smooth in the rainfall,
that drops like tears, upon her pale skin.
The dance then fell to suffering,
then gentle rain to lightening.
A shade rose up to strike the calm,
to turn peace to misery...
(c)2001 Luvadea DeMortessa