There was a tadpole
who lived in a tight pool.
He waited to be a frog
before fainting the winter fog.
To hop in hard land of dry sand
where huge trees stand.

What happened when he hop?
For his unluck, against his hope.
He fell under a giant boot,
instead of on a tree root.

Do you remember frogs and their ribbit, ribbit sound?
Do you remember them hoping, all around and round?

Do you remember tadpoles, looking slimy and gray?
Do you remember catching them, made a very, very fun day?

Do you remember the first time, your tadpole lost its tail?
His legs were bigger, his tail was gone and he wasn't quite so frail.

Those memories flooded back to me, as I did my morning stroll.
The sound of frogs was ribbitting as if they were on patrol.

It seems like forever, since I had heard that sound.
I had to stop and hold my breath and slowly turn around.

Yep, it is, it really is frogs, that are wishing me good day.
I'm glad I heard, their ribbit sound, and these memories flowed my way.

Brian Hill - 2019#73
Inspired by the welcoming frogs this morning..