A frog hopped on the gravel path.
I wondered where he would go.
So small, I barely caught a glimpse,
A friend no bigger than a pinecone.
To home he went, that's what I thought,
Before being caught in splashing rain.
No worries in his life, unlike myself,
A little life without much pain.
Dewdrop drinks and autumn air,
A grassy sweetness in the dark.
Shelter under toadstool hearth,
That's what sets us apart.
But here I am thinking
Of a cottagecore type of frog.
One that sips on tea instead of
Living in the bog.
But that's what makes him happy,
He has a nature of his own,
And I long for living daydreams
Where I'm as carefree as a toad.