Ryan Lee 2D/07

All My Friends Are Dead

Not entirely undisturbed it swam
Over and under, water and land
This great black bird
With wings of might
Ink black feathers
Dark as night

Swan Lake
The sign said
But where were the swans?
They must all be dead.

A single lonesome swan
Was all there was left.
Perhaps the sign
Was put up in jest?

Walking down the trail, I was delighted to see a sign declaring that “Swan Lake” was up ahead. Excited, I ran to the lake, and was immediately overwhelmed by the sight of six gigantic bronze swans, seemingly flying off the surface of the lake, immortalized in all their glory. However, upon further examination, the lake held no more evidence of birdlike life, except for one sad character. He was sitting by the side of the lake, preening himself. He looked unhappy, even melancholic, as if mourning the death of a loved one. He was even dressed in the black of a funeral! Perhaps the cause was bird flu?

I was intrigued that Swan Lake had only one swan. I was expecting a whole lakeful of them, instead of one companionless bird. However, the swan’s grace, despite its solitude, inspired me to write this poem. Wish you all the best, Swan Dude.