Her Love was like the blackest swan, swimming 'neath the midnight sun. Gentley gliding through the lake, I watch her movements, the ripples she makes. The circles extend until no more, or get washed upon the pebbled shore. Still she moves on without a pause, Does this bird know the damage it's caused.
Thank you Marge and Lone wolf. If anyone else is reding this i strongly suggest you check out some of the work these two have done (indeed butterflys don't cry and chreylLynnmcKee) There is some really good stuff there.
Thanks for you replies!!!
Whole Sort Of Genl Mish Mash