Rubber ducky that swims in the bath,
you mate, are one l’ill bobbing ally
against the trauma of a slippery soap
that flips from those wrinkled fingers;
3 inches of yellow plastic, but shush please,
be discreet, don’t mention his manufacture,
as he considers himself a real duck.
Trained to dive on any given signal,
left raised eyebrow means search to the left,
and right means, well, you get the drift;
ex SUDS (Special Underwater Duck Squad),
this little quacker has seen it all, and still does.
Thunderbirds can’t compare to his abilities
to doggedly, I mean duckedly seek out
the sunken bars before meltdown.
Small salute as he resurfaces, a job well done.
Admirable I think, stretching for the towel
that levitates just beyond human reach;
as usual, a request to practice manoeuvres,
then half an hour later, up comes the plug.