angeliquette

the real name of this poem is the Fresh Prince arose from the Scum of the Pond.  im sorry it sucks but im psychotic a tad bit and its the best i could do and i was tired of my crappy pictures.  it begins......now. Today, while tending to my flowers, i spottd a frog, delighted i cautiously stalked my little green prey. Upon his cature he said to me: "please dont go all frenchy on me" and i assured him i would not go frenchy on him after we spent some time together just mister frogitus and i i decide to let him go free altough he majorly enjoyed the fly biscuts and warm pondscum tea i provided he happily hopped off my hand, to his f

as i sit at the edge of his home, gazing at the object of my affection, i fantasize of his long, slender beak nuzzling my neck if only he would allow me to hold him frightened by my footsteps, he swims away silently i beg him not to leave so that i may take pleasure at the sight of him pleasant brown feathers seem to beg me to stroke their downy existence after a few minutes he cautiosly enters my presence delighted, i am paralyzed by our closeness eventually leaving i am able to again breathe normally and veiwing him from afar fantasizing of holding him if only he'd allow me to do so as i sit on the edge of his pond