The Frog

by Harshita Das aged 11

I go to a pond
A beautiful sight it is
The reflection of the moon
Half hiding
Behind the clouds
Resting on its surface
With the slightest of rain
Pattering on the ripples
They expand
And disappear
On a lily pad
Sits a slimy frog
It is unlike the beauty around it
It eyes its prey
A small fly fleeting about
It gets too close
In a blink of an eye
It is gone
The frog rests on its pad
Its ears quirk up
As it sits straight again
A snake behind
Spitting poison from its fangs
And the frog’s throat swells up
As it lets out a shriek
A high pitched voice
The snake startled,
Stares at it
Its ice blue eyes
In confusion
Other frogs come to the surface
Hearing its call
The snake turns around
As the colony
Descends back in
The silent water
And with that I learn
You don’t need beauty to have friends
It is friends you need
To have beauty in your soul

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