Portrait of A Duck

Gumbo drew this righteous duck the other day. My mother tells me that duck was my first word. I like the lines of his duck; they seem to allow me look inside the boy's artistic mind, see myself as a young artist. He creates so much art I can scarce believe it. No reasonable way to save every piece, but some of it defies destruction, for now. I remember coming home from kindergarten on the last day with a big stack of art I'd made, and asking my mom how long she intended to retain it. She claimed forever, every piece of it. I told her that was not neccesary, and wondered at how she might manage so many pieces of paper. Of course, a simple file cabinet or two could have done the job, but even more of course, not a single piece survived.