Woke up with a “frog” in my throat,
Feelin’ cold, without my coat.
Weather was cool, a slight nip in the air,
How would this weather today, so, fare?
Grey clouds hung, then burst into rain,
Upon the earth, the wetness stained.
Drenching the dry, parched ground
With a booming thunderous sound.
The rain that fell in a light mist,
I look back, feeling a miss,
For it turned into thick sheets,
Where the clouds and thunder meets.
The fresh and crisp smell surrounded me there.
The whipping winds wildly whipped my hair.
In Kindergarten and growing up we were tadpoles,
In this small pond of life, this little “hole”.
Then we grow into frogs, the stages of life,
A life cyle, “growing pains” of strife.
All these things we go through, easy or hard,
Life may have dealt us such a card.
It’s a part of what makes us-
Who we are-a must.
Part of our core values too,
Who’d knew?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem