Her nimble fingers pluck At feathers on a swan Stripping it of its plumage Laying it bare, As she, To the world Without its feathers, She is sure, No one will look at the swan The stripped swan will swim Alone and destitute Cold, wet, unclothed Hopeless and helpless And at the mercy Of the waters reflection And of its peers Who preen And stretch their necks And strut As if to proudly flaunt Their feathers Feathers The naked swan Now clearly lack And is well aware It is without The swan crane™s once sure and graceful head Dips low Breaking the waters tranquility And its own reflection And morphing it Swan and lake Ripple away With time New feathers will grow Finer, smoother, whiter Than those who once did mock And its reflection will be shocking And peers will suddenly flock And the swan will crane its neck Proud and wise and strong And somewhere on shore A girl smiles Washing her hands Of her plucked feathers Letting the lake will carry them away And lifts her head Tentative and hopeful and bare