Boggled

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A young girl sat by the brook,
She enjoyed the pages of her book.
She was at peace until it began to croak
“Ribbid Ribbid, Ribbid Ribbid”, it spoke.
Her focus lost, she looked about,
She found the frog, sitting stout.
She walked closer, “Shoo Shoo!
Unless you want to be caught for a stew!”,
She yelled as she tried to shush it,
“Ribbid Ribbid”, it went, it would not quit.
Much to her surprise she saw it cry,
“Serves me right.”, it let out a sigh.

“You can talk?”, the girl shook her head,
“Either that or you are mad.”, it said.
“Why do you cry?”, she asked the frog.
She went closer and sat on a nearby log.
“My brother has been taken by the warlock.
He is worse than the fiery hawk.”
The girl cupped her hands in the brook,
Some water to the frog she took.
“Go on, you’ll feel better. Have a drink.”,
She urged it as the frog seemed to blink,
It closed its eyes as its long tongue lapped
The water from her hands it tapped.
She giggled as it tickled her a lot,
It opened its eyes and resumed its squat.

“My brother, Our King is forever lost,
For helping others, we paid the cost.
He needed to distract the warlock,
So he decided to talk.
Sitting on the pile of trapped frogs,
Who were crying for help in the bogs.
The evil warlock spared not even one,
A web around them had been spun.
His magic was too hard to break,
When I tried to help, he unleashed a snake.
I could do nothing, I had to retreat.
Why does he trap us when he has plenty to eat?”,
The frog broke down and choked on tears,
The young girl could not believe her ears.

Could it be that the warlock was a catcher of fish?
Like the one who sells that famous dish.
Frog legs, yes, that’s what he calls it,
She felt a sting, her head seemed to split.
She closed her eyes and held her head,
She woke up to find herself near her bed.
“Ribbid Ribbid”, she heard and ran to it,
“I’ll make this right, just give me a bit.”,
She said to her pet frog and woke her father.

“What happened child, what is the matter?
She made him vow not to fish in the bogs,
And next day, to return the King of the Frogs.
“And promise me never to use your fishing hook,
To strike at them if you see them near the brook.
Swear to me that you’ll help me save them all,
Their hearts are big though they be small.”

About the post: I had written this poem for a really great initiative called “Save the Frogs”. You can check out their website and spread the word if you like. Its definitely worth a look.
http://www.savethefrogs.com/threats/index.html

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