The Comical Plunge
In the mirror of what could have been,
a team of ducks in tuxedos plot their venge.
How clever the ripple, yet so cruel the jest,
as a puddle pairs constantly with one duck's nest.
The floor begins its slick ballet,
treacherous with its “Oops! I stand no where today.”
Destiny, she chuckles, not one step earns grace,
as slippery rumors orbit, leaving stars out of place.
Through reflections miscast in comedic lights,
a journey begins—not grand, nor polite.
The fumble of ego, the desi chef in new forum,
echoes in the face of the smoothed surface—quorum.
Cherubim's Slip
Skin Deep Reflections?