Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash | Public Domain

Swan River

Lybid sits alone in an old cafe
sipping her drink slow: ekspresso kava.
She likes it black and bitter to match her mood.
Her brothers live in the hills that bear their names.
The only thing she has to show are dreams:
dry and dissipated as her streams.
She looks past the glass of the dirty
window pane and in her mind she sees
a swan in flight trying desperately
to flee the piercing gaze; the hunter’s bow.
Freedom lies across the swollen stream.
A sigh — she leans in her chair hypnotized
by the sound of waves lapping the sides
and prow of a boat across the great Dnipro.

You can support my coffee addiction: Coffee.