Dark Angel
New member
oops, not a poem. Tell me what the story is about instead. Thanks.
It's titled: THE DUCK
A wounded duck finds herself in a strange concrete jungle, miles from the green grass and blue pond she desires in life. Her wings are badly fractured, her tail feathers lost thru out many a fight. He beak is silenced, unable to let out a single quack. She is cold and afraid. Alone, but only for a moment. She takes up home in an empty, abandoned nest. She needs comfort, so she befriends the roaches, rabbits, wolfs and dalmations that surround her. Within 20 minutes of sleep she finds herself surrounded by snow. It seems all her surrounded company is playing in the snow, enjoying the freedom and excitement that snow brings them. The duck looks upon the snow with desire, desire to be lost, happy and carefree in the white drifts as well. The duck moves hesitantly towards the snow, while gentle nudges from the dalmations encourage her that it's alright. Even through her troubled eyes, the duck can see that snow is not for ducks. Snow is fridgid, and dangerous to a duck. A slippery slope that a duck can not easily free itself from. The wounded duck must choose. That pond and grass are miles away, out of site for even the strongest duck. The wounded duck glances to the blue sky, watching swans soar towards that blue pond and green grass she too, desires to be near. The wounded duck can not soar, for her own broken wings are holding her back, keeping her in this concrete jungle she desperately wants to leave behind. Without a single quack, the wounded duck keeps an eye on the swan in the sky, taking painful, tiny steps in the same direction the healthy swan has soared; for one day the wounded duck will get to the green grass and blue pond in which she strives to frolic. One day, indeed.
It's titled: THE DUCK
A wounded duck finds herself in a strange concrete jungle, miles from the green grass and blue pond she desires in life. Her wings are badly fractured, her tail feathers lost thru out many a fight. He beak is silenced, unable to let out a single quack. She is cold and afraid. Alone, but only for a moment. She takes up home in an empty, abandoned nest. She needs comfort, so she befriends the roaches, rabbits, wolfs and dalmations that surround her. Within 20 minutes of sleep she finds herself surrounded by snow. It seems all her surrounded company is playing in the snow, enjoying the freedom and excitement that snow brings them. The duck looks upon the snow with desire, desire to be lost, happy and carefree in the white drifts as well. The duck moves hesitantly towards the snow, while gentle nudges from the dalmations encourage her that it's alright. Even through her troubled eyes, the duck can see that snow is not for ducks. Snow is fridgid, and dangerous to a duck. A slippery slope that a duck can not easily free itself from. The wounded duck must choose. That pond and grass are miles away, out of site for even the strongest duck. The wounded duck glances to the blue sky, watching swans soar towards that blue pond and green grass she too, desires to be near. The wounded duck can not soar, for her own broken wings are holding her back, keeping her in this concrete jungle she desperately wants to leave behind. Without a single quack, the wounded duck keeps an eye on the swan in the sky, taking painful, tiny steps in the same direction the healthy swan has soared; for one day the wounded duck will get to the green grass and blue pond in which she strives to frolic. One day, indeed.