Scotty Duck

I have been alone for quite some time;

Lonelier still, without a thing to love,

So I turned to feeding the ducks and the swans

Who came to dine at my waterfront restaurant.

Six in the morning, each and every day,

I would spread my corn, welcoming patrons,

Greeting them by name, repeat customers,

"Glad to have you, bring a friend, it's free."

One day there came a funny looking little duck;

I called him "Scotty" after a person I cared for dearly;

Seeing something special in them, invisible to other eyes

An imperfection making both more precious to me.

Thus began my happier days; waiting for the Scotty Duck.

Devising tricks to feed him first, in preference to the rest.

Scattering corn in all directions, throwing most to him.

I lived to save that duck, smaller and more frailly built.

And then came this final day; I waited in the falling rain;

Scotty was late and the last to come, slower than before.

Passing the corn, he sat on the waters edge as if on eggs,

Looking at me from time to time, with what appeared a fatal smile.

I began to weep, knowing Scotty had come to say good bye.

This was the last day we both would feed, he my corn

And I, on his very special ways that daily numbed my pain.

Then came a sudden storm, the ducks fled, and he was gone.

I got up earlier each and every morn, they all came back,

But not again the Scotty duck; never more the skittish bird

That made me smile and my heart feel glad to see him feed.

Hello heartache, good bye my joy, and all that from a tiny duck.

And in my sadness I began to pray; for something else to love,

Something to brighten a dreary day, in an otherwise empty life.

A certain sign, a something, that my Scotty outlived the storm,

That things are not forever lost, but live on at times in another form.

It was then I began looking in forgotten places for a thing I'd lost.

Searching for something I felt was there, not knowing what or where

Then I spied it. A pottery piece made by my dear mother long ago

A perfect Scotty replica, same smile, same size, same everything.

He is with me now, and this my sign that nothing really dies;

It goes on forever in our hearts till the dark; and perhaps, beyond.

There was a friend named Scotty once; I am glad we shared the corn;

Got far more out of it than he; I knew it then, and sadly, I know it now.

Tristan still waiting in the rain

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