I Miss The Pond: A Duck’s Story

I miss the Pond,

How fresh the water used to be,

Fish would swim freely.

Frogs hopped on the intertwined lily pads,

Playing games with the buzzy-bees.

Glorious watercress would sprout,

And stun honourably, flowers pink and gold.

Clusters of bulrushes protecting us,

Guarding the water’s edge,

From the Bench where Monsters reside.

From time to time, there would be Noise.

Harrowing vibrations, rippling in the water,

Disrupting our natural routine,

Swimming in circles,

This was nonsense.

Inconsiderate, evil nature,

Why have you allowed them here?

We cannot fight them.

Suffering, we tell them to leave,

But they bribe us with “bread”.

Monsters with a substance so enticing,

But one by one, Ducks fell ill,

They laughed and smiled,

Gathering in troublesome groups:

Feeding in abundance,

We cannot waste what they give us.

We shouldn’t eat what they throw at us.

I feel guilty, for not warning the others.

I suffer alone, in this Pond.

Cold, dark nights, ducks fear of death…

Who could’ve thought, with such innocence:

The cutest of the Pond’s inhabitants,

We are terrified of the unknown.

I miss the Pond, 

When there was no such thing

As Monsters, or Rubbish, or Litter

When we could glide like swans,

On the other side of the beavers’ dam.

We shiver and quake with broad quacks,

Mistaken for being happy, we are not.

We want sanctuary in our Pond.


2 Replies to “I Miss The Pond: A Duck’s Story”

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