Ducks

Ducks.

Ducks torment
my waking hours.

They quack an obititory
of sorrow. Their bills intrude
into my dreams. They waddle within a silence.
Too deep to be understood.
.
Every day - every hour -every minute- they
count down the seconds. "Quack quack. You
have forgotten.
Haven't you?
The trust we shared?"
All gone. Dream on. There is no other chance.
.
Ducks swim across the pond
wailing the dirge.
dismal ducks,
dynamic ducks,
divine ducks.

Until I see them no more.
Such silence.

(c) Rosalind J. Lee
one of my maisie pomes