Swan
It’s such an odd thing
To be followed,
To worry
What someone else thinks
And to know that
Someone, somewhere
Is always watching
Even when
You just want
To be alone
With your thoughts
But a follower is
A delicate creature,
Rare
And fleeting
As a black swan
Floating on a pond
Don’t look
And you’ll never find one;
Don’t look away
Or they’ll d
r
i
f
t
off.
Portraits of a Ghost 
Thank you! So relevant to me
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You’re quite welcome!
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This is beautiful ❤
Thank you for visiting 🙂
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You’re welcome, and likewise!
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Very beautiful! And thank you for drifting to my page too 🙂
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This poem is amazing, your truly talented. I like what you did with the structure, how it actually drifts on the word drift, very clever. I tip my hat off to you sir.
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I really like this. It reads a beautiful way to touch on the love hate relationship between art and recognition. Even if you’re not an artist there’s that instinctual need in us for validation that can only come outwardly. Oh boy, what a tight rope to walk. Great poem.
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