White Duck … Black Duck


 

By Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee/@GeeGranny @ Twitter

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the middle of the small pond

A white duck swan all alone

Wishing for companionship

One day a small black wood duck

Stopped by for a drink of water

Grew close to the duck, stayed a while

Weeks went by until the black duck

Felt the need to travel on, fly

Come fly with me, white duck!

He flew all around the white duck

To get it to fly … the white duck tried

To no avail … sadly the duck dropped its head

I can’t fly with you, I wish to go

I’m not the flying kind of duck

I can only fly short distances, not high from the ground

The black duck knew he had to go

He had to leave his beautiful friend behind

With grief in his heart … he flew off

Promising to come back one day

The white duck swan sadly

On the pond until one day

The black duck flew down from the sky

Landed on the water just beside

The white duck as it looked up in surprise

I’m back, white duck

I’ll stay long as I can … I don’t want to go

Leave you behind ever again

Everywhere the white duck went

The black duck followed like a shadow

Always by its side

Where you saw one, there was the other

As close as two ducks could be

White duck, black duck were in love

They swan on the pond each day

Happily ever after

Contented as only ducks can be!

 

 

 

Note by this Author:

Skip and I watch a pond we pass by often.  A white duck lives on the pond … and for a time a black duck came … always sitting close to the white duck like its shadow.  It was smaller than the white duck.

We were so happy the white duck had companionship.  Skip and I didn’t have to worry the white duck was lonely anymore until …. one day not long ago … the black duck was gone.

Now, the white duck swims all alone in the little pond.  We see birds stop by to visit, and an egret or two.  We worry about the white duck.  We can’t help but, to.

We wish the black duck would come back.  I thought it would stay there always … Skip said that both ducks … weren’t the same kind of ducks.  The black duck could fly great distances … the white duck can’t.

I don’t know the differences between one duck or the other … my prayer is that the black duck will come back … or someone get a companion for the sweet, white duck.

Poem/photo … both owned, written by Gloria Faye Brown Bates/aka Granny Gee

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