Eyes were closed for a toad,
As rays lay among the mist of the water,
The darkness of the river,
relived into shallow transparency,
And all upon the rock sleeps the toad,
Amphibious and Reptilian are the anatomy of the river,
While dragons surface the mirror as bait,
Waltzing with the boughs,
The wind presses against the leaves,
Dipping gold and orange,
Then fusing with light,
And as one,
Pecks the river, which ripples, disrupting transparency and peace,
Becoming all the river never was,
As the ripples shake,
So did the eyes of the toad,
Darken and cloudy, a hidden gene unexpressed,
A grief affixed to his thickened skin,
Contrasting to his sight,
Which blandly flew, a butterfly,
From cold to hot, blazing went the toad,
Grasping the rock with his fingers, her blue wings,
Fluttered against the breeze,
Within the middle of her wings,
White spots, lost within themselves,
Danced with the flutter,
Floating in midair, a voice, she became,
Low and gentle, all that crawls or hops, listened, not gazed,
All but the toad,
Wanting to become all he never felt,
Upon a lilly, the butterfly met her peace,
And upon the water the toad descended,
Her eyes glowed as she sipped for water,
Two pearls lost, a treasure to attain,
But to break the softened tune,
A tongue he sticked and crunched his love,
For no wiser he could have been, naive,
With that, the collapse of peace began, and chaos,
Rained, as the stream raged and swiped,
All that it ever was, yet,
All upon the rocks sleeps the toad,
Briefing what he had not become,
A tragic love it ever was.
