• I am an odd duck in a boat all my own.
    The boat is in the middle of a quiet lake,
    And being the odd duck that I am,
    I can’t row myself ashore - for I have no hands.

    I have only myself to talk to, for the oar is very quiet,
    And so in the boat, in the lake, I sit - quietly thinking to myself.
    ‘The wind my blow me to shore,’ I ponder,
    ‘But the wind blows both ways and I may end up in the middle again.’ I ponder back.

    But the lake is still and quiet,
    And even if the wind could move me with its whispers,
    It would not whisper here.

    Sometimes I see people on the shore,
    Although they know not where they walk,
    “Did they wander here by chance?”
    But the oar seemed shy; it would not talk.

    “Hey,” I yelled, my loudest whisper,
    “Notice my lake by which you stand!”
    Some may hear but none will listen,
    I am a duck, I am no man.

    Here now I sit, in this quiet autumn lake,
    The wind whispering somewhere else,
    I share my concerns with the quiet oar,
    In a boat all my own.