Oh, how you move on,

Like a duck waddling in a pond,

Wobbling your tail for attention,

A bit too pompous,

A bit too endearing,

Round your little pond,

And again past me,

As I sit, in the bank, waiting.


Some days you look,

Without turning your head,

You nod and glide on,

With your grandiose airs.

Some days you swim past,

Without a sidelong glance,

Some days you stop,

And ask me why I won’t move on.


I smile as you wiggle off,

The water in your white feathers,

As you peep around rocks,

Peekaboo-ing with fish,

As you glide around with the pelicans,

Feigning self-importance.

Who would admire your wiggling back,

If I moved on too?



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