Icy liquid in between my fingers,
Smell of algae and fish lingers.
I picture me a very little frog,
Sitting on lily pads croaking songs.
Jumping from one to the next,
Forever sleep on lily pad beds.
And the lily’s will grow with me,
Both a blooming curiosity.
When it gets hot I’ll sit on the edge,
Let the water wash over my frog legs.
Watch the tadpoles swim in circles,
If there’s no people I can’t hurt them.
I’d...