A glance from a shop window,
a chance reflection, passing by,
and I am caught, enchanted by a swan,
and carried back to a time when we lived by a lake,
where the swans would gather in the the morning
and trumpet us awake, their sweet baritones resounding
across the water, striking echoes in our hearts...
Is that not the gift of art --
that it awakens long-lost memories of love?
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