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Little Frog

Once upon a time
down in the southern bog
there was a slimy toad
or maybe slimy frog
He’d jump upon the grasses
not sinking in the mud
the rascal never made a sound
not one little muddy thud
He’d hop around all day
looking for his flies
They’d dart right in his vision
a sight for sore-ish eyes
He’d flick out his long tongue
as quickly as he could
but everytime he did it
He’d get a splinter from the wood
He hated all the dead trees
that lay upon the ground
but they fell each time in winter
not making any sound
and so he goes on looking
for food that he can eat
Then up into the air he’d go
springing from his feet
He’d fly off with the breeze
‘Cause he barely weighed an ounce
Never seeing gators
Who couldn’t wait to pounce
They’d jump onto the mainland
more quickly than you’d think
and eat that frog for dinner
then into water they would sink.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry