A tiny tadpole, round and small,
In pond or stream, he gives his all.
He eats all day, green algae sweet,
And dead leaves found but he's missing feet.
He swims around, his tail so strong,
Hoping no danger comes along.
For bugs and fish, and birds that fly,
Would love to eat him, by and by.
First, back legs sprout, a tiny pair,
Then lungs begin to fill with air.
Front legs appear, a frog-like form,
Protect from the wind and any storm.
His tail grows small, then disappears,
No need for it, to conquer fears.
He's not a tadpole anymore,
But a little frog, that hops to shore.
T.M.Solvang
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem