There existed a pond an illusion to be,
A wishing well, reaching into one’s mind.
There lived a froggy, amnesia had he,
Diving underwater, seeking his kind.
“Why is it?” said the froggy as the sun rose above,
“That futile are my searches for a friend here today?”
Unable to grasp such a question of love,
He dangled his feet, sighed, splashed his worries away.
Soft footsteps were heard on the moss far behind.
Turning his head, a tear fell below.
“Why do you cry?” said a voice, sounding so kind.
There stood a princess whose radiance did glow.
“I am lost,” said the froggy, with an innocence of pain,
“I do not know who I am, or why I am here.”
“I am filled with a longing, I cannot explain.”
“Maybe for a friend, for a spouse, for someone quite dear.”
“Could that friend be me?” flowed her words bathed in light.
“I’ve known a frog or two, in my time, in my play.”
“Yes, yes!” said the froggy, captured by the sight,
Of a princess who ignored what others might say.
Thus many a day, was born to abscond,
And was filled with their games, and stories of dream.
By a princess of silk, and a green frog by a pond,
And a happiness that could close such a book it would seem.
But all is not heard and the epic not told,
Until is revealed the fact of the kiss.
Which should have transformed as in stories of old,
Our froggy on rock into handsome young prince.
So, forward she bent, lips touching his chin,
But nothing did change and she turned right away.
“I’ll be back in the morn,” she sighed with a grin,
Though never returning, to once again play.
“Why me?” cried the chivalrous, gallant little frog,
As he tossed up the thought, his bare elbow on knee.
But unanswered lay words until sank his own log,
And strange noises were heard, behind hide-me-now tree.
From his world did he spring, to a branch in the clouds,
Where shattered were views by scenes far below.
Thus shedding his youth, like a lifting of shrouds,
His heart lost beat, lost warmth, lost innermost glow.
And so slumped the froggy, near his water filled home,
Not seeing the Folklore whose petals now turned
To touch the stooped shoulder and mortified gnome,
And trigger an explosion of colour, of sound, of light yet unlearned.
As the cacophony cleared, from the air all around,
A crowned couple stood by castle and glistening stream,
While a cloaked rabbit, sat groping amongst forested ground,
Near a vulture, still grappling with her golden gown’s seam.
Audio Version (To Be Added)
Copyright © Vasilios Theodorakis 1988
(7th poem written in 1988 – exact date of writing unknown)