The croaking frog

Every croaking little frog 
likes to sing loud in the fog
at its personal hummock,
waiting for His Highness coming.   
Though she’s got an awful croak,
and jumps high instead of walk;
never mind, her known talk
for the Highness is charming.
With an arrow as a stick 
in her pads – she’s not so quick
but this fairy-tale’s trick
helps to make a soothing match.
With her tongue hanging out
 she looks like to say about
how much she would be proud
to get married with dispatch.
 In the swamp the wedding bells
sound dim as from the hell
that the things are not so well 
for the one whose call – “His Highness”.
Ringing up the bell to twelve,
doesn’t mean it brakes a spell   
with a seer to foretell
if the last strike goes for finest.
Moral message lies not deep,
as for lips to make a sip,
as inside a swamp to leap
for a fool with frogs to dating;
maybe she’s a croaking frog,
crocodile, or diplodoc(us).
siting straight at its hummock
with an arrow, waiting, waiting…
03.01,2021.