Every time spring arrives at the lake,
I glance at the tall reeds
along the swampy shore
looking for the swans.
There were once there,
a pair of them and their nest,
waiting for the eggs to hatch,
waiting for new life.
I remember it well
because it was the spring you died,
and I remember how no eggs hatched,
how new life did not come.
I remember how the swans left
soon after you left me fatherless,
before I could say to you
all the words I wanted to
but after all the words I regret.
The swans never returned,
but still every spring I watch for them,
waiting for forgiveness,
for a sign that new life will come again.