The thunder would roar, and the lightening would strike,
As I hid under blankets on those long sultry nights.
The rain would come down, like all cats and dogs,
Turning our backyard into Finnegans bog.
Then it would let up, and out came the frogs.
There were frogs on the lawn, and toads in the streets,
Singing away with one hell of a beat.
They sang in falsetto, there were tenors too,
Out in the muck and the mud and the goo.
They sang like longshoremen, all filled up with brew.
They sang through the night, they sang until dawn,
Putting me at ease with their beautiful songs.
In the morning I'd wake and they were still going strong.
Then they would start to burrow, back where they belonged.
For the next thunderstorm, my heart always longed.
Superb Juan, I love frogs, to look at anyway, not to hold. What a wonderful scene this paints and so very imaginative.
I love frogs, we have a garden pond they splash in and just poke their heads above water and seem to be watching us......a lovely poem Juan
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wonderful. It is amazing the wonder that old memories can give us. Great write pal.