The Frog Prince

The frog Prince
Sat on a log,
Looking over the pond
And through the fog.

He saw a young maiden
Sitting by the edge,
With her feet in the water
She was surrounded by a hedge.

He longed to be turned
Into a young Prince,
But his looks would scare her
She would turn away and squint.

But, he decided to take his chances
And hopped over to her,
He was a frightning sight
Too clumsy, to be a dancer.

He fell off the edge of the grass
That she sat upon,
Landed face first in the mud
Of his home, the pond.

He wasn't very happy
As none of this was going well,
He hopped on a lily pad
Had noticed his face did swell.

He tried again
With all his might,
To get up the courage
Hoping everything would be alright.

He hopped back to the maiden
She was getting ready to leave,
He jumped on a swinging vine
His pride, he tried to retrieve.

He fell on the ground
In front of the maiden's feet,
Took off his crown and bowed
Tried to keep his feelings upbeat.

She got quite terrified
And threw him into the pond,
This poor old frog, won't be a Prince today
She cracked him over the head with her wand.

Copyright Cynthia Jones
Apr.6/2006

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The Frog Prince