I knew I’d use this painting by Andrew Stevovich again.
Where the swan lies down to die,
Where the rowan berries lie,
Beneath the wild and lonely sky,
Where the roots delve dark and deep,
Beneath the poplars’ restless sleep,
There abandoned lovers weep.
The geese have flown, the daylight’s fled,
Scattered the sweet words you said,
Like autumn leaves, my dreams are dead.
Take the warp and take the weft,
Take my heart, leave me bereft,
Weave a story with what’s left.