The Frog Poem by John Rickell

I fell in love
when first I saw a rose
too young to see and
understand its beauty,
Why the bee sucks
and hovers round the bud.
The rose hip syrup
on the Christmas table
sweet and sour delights.
The water lily too
the gold-fin in the lake,
petals whiter than the rose,
stigma to invite, pink wings
resting in the fountain's shade,
a frog waiting to be kissed,
before the petals closed,
then I saw the rose,
then I understood.
I came here a youth,
to leave a man.