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Array ( [sid] => 163534 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Ugly Duckling [time] => 2010-12-03 21:41:38 [hometext] => [bodytext] => I've looked across the water, many times back and forth.
I see the same thing, the swans having fun.
I used to be involved, but alas no more.
I'm the Ugly Duckling and I don't move on.
I try and I try, but I stay fixed to the spot.
One wise old swan told me to look ahead at what will happen.
I see nothing, I see darkness, I see rushes.
I see the swans swimming round and round the pond, whilst I'm in the rushes always looking on.
I never seem to move even though I try, 'I've got to learn to swim' are the words that float my mind.
Maybe some ducks aren't meant to paddle, maybe some aren't destined for that big, old, massive pond.
The swans no longer circulate with me the pining duckling.
They just swim, swim, swim with the other bathing swans.
I often see the four ducklings, I used to acquainted with, now they've enhanced into perfect, polished swans.
They no longer wonder what happened to the poor and lonely duckling that they all left behind.
So I'll have to stay, rooted within the rushes, always trying to paddle
but never moving on. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 147 [topic] => 31 [informant] => elliebatt [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )

The Ugly Duckling

Contributed by elliebatt on Friday, 3rd December 2010 @ 09:41:38 PM in AEST
Topic: StoryPoetry

I've looked across the water, many times back and forth.
I see the same thing, the swans having fun.
I used to be involved, but alas no more.
I'm the Ugly Duckling and I don't move on.
I try and I try, but I stay fixed to the spot.
One wise old swan told me to look ahead at what will happen.
I see nothing, I see darkness, I see rushes.
I see the swans swimming round and round the pond, whilst I'm in the rushes always looking on.
I never seem to move even though I try, 'I've got to learn to swim' are the words that float my mind.
Maybe some ducks aren't meant to paddle, maybe some aren't destined for that big, old, massive pond.
The swans no longer circulate with me the pining duckling.
They just swim, swim, swim with the other bathing swans.
I often see the four ducklings, I used to acquainted with, now they've enhanced into perfect, polished swans.
They no longer wonder what happened to the poor and lonely duckling that they all left behind.
So I'll have to stay, rooted within the rushes, always trying to paddle
but never moving on.

Copyright © elliebatt ... [ 2010-12-03 21:41:38]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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