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Ode to the Toad
O
The toad on the road was
Quite slowed by the load of
The flies (sometime wise) he'd
Surprised by the size of
His tongue (though he's young) which
He'd wield while concealed in
The grass as they'd pass
So
With little requital
I captured (enraptured)
This masterful gaster-full
(digest) of flies
And
With grand understanding,
Not canned or demanding,
We shared in a paired
Existential potential.
As he ate the bugs fate
Had lead to my bed-
Room .
O why did he die in
The prime of his time?
'Twas
The agony jag when
He learned (or discerned) that
A prince is a prince and
A toad is a toad and
Most princesses winces
When told to kiss toads.
Ross Olson
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