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                                Ode to the Frog
                            
                                A Sonnet 
                            by originalcontent
        
My tiny frog, you inspire me to write.
I hate the way you squeak, wallow and call,
Invading my mind day and through the night,
Always dreaming about the wild pratfall.


Let me compare you to a merry fly?
You are more brittle, wary and little.
Round drought dries the pinkpicnics of July,
And summertime has the profound pittle.

How do I hate you? Let me count the ways.
I hate your briny ankle, hands and feet.
Thinking of your shiny hands fills my days.
My hate for you is the spiny white heat.

Now I must away with a whiney heart,
Remember my bound words whilst we're apart.