Swan Song

It was her swan-song.
She sang all night,
Swaying in the wind
Life flowing in her veins

A song of rain and sun.
A song of spring and blossoms.
She sang, in homage
To the joy throbbing in her heart.

A solitary figure singing
In divine oblivion
Her limbs, trembling with life,
Glistened in the dewy dawn.

In the morn, they came.
They came with saws and axes.
They climbed upon her,
Tore her limbs apart.

Trod upon her tender blossoms.
Then her heart burst.
Her life-blood flowed out,
A warm sweet torrent.

With a sigh and a sob, she fell.
Satiated, they left her there.
A fragrance lingering in the air,
A memory passing into the soil.