Two swans alight upon this place,
beneath the sun’s elusive face,
as breakers crash upon the beach,
and distant seagulls swoop and screech.
Upon the cliffs that touch the tide,
the castle turrets stand beside
the long horizon’s blushing glow,
where murmurs of the wind sweep low.
The song of years submerged in time,
encompassed in an abstract rhyme
of glinting golden wave washed planes,
that cannot quench its sweet refrains.
© Lisa-Jane La Grange
This poem was inspired by the swans on the Thames River, although the Thames is not as romantic as the painting. I did not find it particularly enjoyable to live in that location at the time.
With that being as it is, I can at least say I was afforded the opportunity to go for walks along the Thames whenever I felt like it.
As silly as it might sound, that was something I had dreamt of for most of my life.
In reality though, I think the Thames is a rather dismal looking river. Large and slow and sullen, it heaves sluggishly along, cluttered with dilapidated barges and squalid little boats.