Born a Virgin Diplomat
To die a Warrior Swan.
Most of them just didn’t fit,
The guises I put on.
I wished for all life’s colors.
Broad purple, pink, and green.
Most of them, long since turned grey.
The rest, I’ve never seen.
I lost it all quite early,
As was to be my fate.
But as a fan of romance,
I never chose to wait.
I did escape, and often.
But never flew away.
I hoped to see the colors.
Perhaps, by chance, someday.
That’s why I’ve come full circle.
Who knows what track I’m on?
Journeys once of many days,
Now end before the dawn.
Whatever thoughts may plague me,
I’ve wings to fly away.
A quiver full of arrows,
To pen mark every day.
With much to write, and often.
And less to dwell upon;
I have not missed my calling,
To be a Warrior Swan.
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