Little Yellow Duck

The bigger picture is of a
very young teenage girl 
but I have so few big pictures
of that time in my mind.
She was yellow haired
and peachy, kind of ducky also.

After 'little yellow duck'
there was that 'cat canoodling’ witch;
jet black hair
that flew everywhere – raven uncaged,
I gave pagan girl a whirl for a spell.

Then the high-minded pianist,
long on ideals and high heels
(red toenails in bedroom pumps),
too good for me – or anyone like.

At age twenty-three
 she, the one called Frances 
came and went, heaven sent
but wrongly addressed,
leaving me wishing 
I had a little yellow duck to play with.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

Poem

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