duck-stories (chapter three)

Getting my ducks in a row

There once was this shiny bright hangover day,
it might have been sunday or tuesday.
When I sat myself down to figure it out
how I could keep track with my whole life.

So I sat by the Avon, right there on a bench,
when they started to appear from the water.
The ducks of life came out to get done
to be sorted all out in one row.

At first came the duck that is always on time,
you might call it my duck of punctuality.
For sure it was there before all the others
as it always comes a wee bit too early.

It was followed by the duck with the itchiest feet,
for that was the duck of my movement.
And since it can´t stay in one place for too long
it just disappeared ever after.

The duck of purpose shook its shiny brown head,
just couldn´t stand what movement was there for.
Was joined by the ducks of career and perspective,
both self-concious, young and so tiny.

The duck of independence came hurrying next
to follow the duck of my movement.
Jumped into that huge car and straight off they drove
directions and map dangling after.

A grey-feathered old duck stood waving behind,
for it was the wise duck of faith.
Was joined by the duck of self-confidence
who muttered „So go for it, ducklings!“.

With all these together, all lined up right there
all ducks stood there facing my bench
It finally seemed I´d achieved what I want,
gather all of them up here together.

I had them all lined up, each one at its place.
How neat and tidy their beaks shone.
I had them all lined up in one single row
and shot them one by one.