Rubber Duck's Origin: A True Poem

A duck lost his quack.
He wanted to get it back.

Sailing high across a tide,
He searched far and wide.

“Will I ever be the same?
Or be a duck without a name?”

Up on a ditch,
He came across a big, old witch.

The duck had to ask,
To see if she were up to task:

“Have you seen my quack?
I would love to get it back!”

She laughed hard and foul,
Exclaiming very loud:

“Now look you’re only made of rubber,
You have no brains, no guts, no blubber!”

The duck dropped his head,
Thinking of what the witch said.

Perhaps her words were true,
There was no quack to pursue.

The duck thanked her and went on his way,
To find anyone else with something to say.

But suddenly he was lifted by a hand,
Of a chubby cheeked tiny man.

The duck’s belly was given a firm squeeze,
That tickled imaginary, yellow knees.

New sound escaped his beak,
A loud, high-pitched kind of squeak!

It brought him joy,
Not just because he was a toy!

He didn’t miss a quack!
That was not what he lacked.

For inside of his little heart,
Was what set him apart.