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 © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment