A frog, stretched on a lily pad,
Thought to himself “life’s not half bad,”
As he basked there in the morning’s glow,
One leg dangled in the pond below.
It was very close to a perfect day
Until a do-good wizard came his way.
The wizard knew fairy tales well
And assumed a witch had cast a spell
To change some prince into a frog
And send him to this muddy bog,
Where he’d wait, a humble soul,
For a true love’s kiss to make him whole.
Because the wizard always did what’s right
(And felt sorry for the prince/frog’s plight)
He took the side of providence
And turned the frog into a prince.
Then he put his wand into his pack
And journeyed on without looking back.
First, the frog lost his greenish hue.
Then his body changed – it grew and grew.
Into the pond he quickly sank,
Then splashed his way to a nearby bank.
And as he dried his whiskered face,
He had no idea what had taken place.
At once, a diplomatic attaché
Showed up to whisk the prince away.
“No time to dally, if you please
You’ve prince responsibilities.”
And before the frog could ask a thing
Off they went to meet the king.
“Where were you?” was the king’s greeting.
Which seemed odd to the frog for a first meeting.
“There are many things that must be done.
You can’t be off just having fun.
Now get cleaned up to face the day.”
Confused, the frog/prince said, “Okay.”
Down a stuffy hallway void of light,
Past the armor of some famous knight,
He was taken to a big, bright suite,
Quite unlike his cozy frog retreat.
How he became a prince was hard to conceive
But he thought it best that he make believe.
So he dressed himself in his princely best –
Crown and robes and brocade vest –
And back to the king he made his way
To receive assignments for the day.
When all the final plans were planned
He left with a list of “to-dos” in hand.
He faced the list with pluck, although
He had been a frog just hours ago,
And princely chores were something new.
But the frog was smart, and clever too.
He would try and he would persist
As he started down his to-do list.
First was the formal dedication
Of the kingdom’s railway station.
Then he judged a jousting match
And pumpkins in a pumpkin patch.
He was Grand Marshall for a street parade
In honor of the king’s brigade,
Then he drafted several proclamations
And presided over celebrations…
By the time his checklist was compete
He was tired and achy, head to feet.
The prince went to bed and fast asleep.
There was no need for counting sheep.
Being a prince was a rushed affair,
First being here, and then being there.
Ceremonies, pomp and rites
Filled his hours – days and nights.
The frog always gave the best he had
Which pleased His Majesty (his dad).
But having every day and minute full
Starts, over time, to take its toll.
And while the frog/prince did his best
He wished sometimes for time to rest,
And that he could swap his to do log
For the quiet life of a simple frog.
Soon it was the first of fall
— The evening the Royal Ball.
The grounds were strung in twinkle light
Dressing up the summer night,
And casting quite a magic glow
On the dancers down below.
The prince was watching the approach
Of a princess in a pumpkin coach,
When all at once he felt a start
And something moved deep in his heart.
His eyes fixed on the stars beyond.
His heart ached for his peaceful pond.
He’d heard of wishing on stars aglow
When he was a tadpole, years ago
And though now a grown, pragmatic guy,
He thought he’d give a wish a try.
He chose the brightest star and then
He wished to be a frog again.
That do-good wizard from before
Was dancing on the ballroom floor.
He heard the prince’s heartfelt plea,
And gave his wand a one, two, three.
Suddenly the prince was gone –
Leaving piles of robes that he had on.
And in that tangle of velvet and down,
There hid a frog, in a frog-sized crown.
With another stroke of the wizard’s wand,
The frog returned to his peaceful pond.
And that frog couldn’t have been more glad
Than to be back home on his lily pad.
Being a prince had held its charms,
As diplomat and sergeant at arms.
But the best thing to be by far — by far.
Is simply the person, or frog that you are.
The frog was content in the moonlight glow,
Dangling one leg in the pond below.
Fabletime 