Saturday, July 9, 2011

The Frog Told Me So

The Frog Told Me So

When I was a child I played in Cedarvale’s swamp
Dragonflies I learned did not sting but rather had a nasty chomp
Tadpoles swum lazily among the majestic bulrushes
Frogs perched on stones bellowed their angry gushes

Yellow coloured garden snakes slid amidst the grass
One day I caught one and brought it to class
Fruit trees of pear and crab-apple grew by the water’s edge
Then came the City and my swamp they began to dredge

The frogs kept telling me as the pond grew smaller and smaller
Nature’s splendour they “ibid-dead” would soon turn to squalor
But what was a young lad with muddy goulashes to know
The worst of it could have been the like the covering of a deep winter snow

Gone is my childhood, dragonfly and ruffian toad
The memories now lie under a dirty gravel road
If only I understood the comical frog and his musical “ribbit”
I would have made sure my goulashes for every kid were put on exhibit

The frog told me so, but I just did not listen
Is it too late for “common sense” in people to christen
Ribbit
Ibid.

Thank you,
Joseph Pede

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