As A Frog

I was a frog and I jumped all over to find you.

I leaped from leaf to leaf but I did not see you.

I felt raindrops on my head and felt so renewed.

I spent hours in the rainforests all in solitude.

It all started inside of an egg, I wondered when I’d hatch.

I was just one of hundreds, from my mother and father’s batch.

One thing was for sure: stay true to my objective.

I didn’t want anything to change my perspective.

I focused and remembered to play my role.

Once my egg hatched and I came out as a tadpole.

In the waters is where I spent most of my time.

I said, “after this, You’re first in my line.”

Soon I grew and stretched out my legs.

I needed to stay down like a camp tent with pegs.

All I did was swim and eat.

I said, “after this, it’s You who I’ll meet!”

I was no longer in the pond, and I had forgotten what I said.

I had to scrape plants and eat algae instead.

I was busy finding food and lived on proteins to grow.

I said, “after this, I would come see You, ya’ know?”

Again I grew and now I was an adult frog.

This time I had a new set of excuses in dialogue.

I used my tongue to extend and capture food.

I said, “after this, we can talk, don’t be so rude!”

I kept you at the end when you should’ve been first.

I wasn’t as strong (as I thought) and gave into my thirst.

I know I came back in this form because I was cursed.

I can’t imagine what I will be before my next burst.