This toad lives in my hearts home
Where history is being made
A country full of peoples
Living amongst the glades
This toad might recognise themselves
But mostly likely think it's not them
Their words bring joy to my days
I'd be lost without their poems
Can you guess who it is?
Love your Dickens toad, but cannot guess who it might be. How wonderful, however, that someone's words bring joy to your days.
ReplyDeleteK
No. I wish it was me. :-)
ReplyDeleteBut I am not fond of toads. So I keep away from that site. You remember the plagues sent over Egypt by the spear of Moses? Frogs were one of them. The problem with the frog is that it is a) a creep and b) is disinterrested. It never pays justice, only sitting there full of itself watching. It is devoid of love. So I don't want to be a toad.
I love the tone of this poem, gentle and loving, but I cannot guess--I haven't been here long enough. Unless it is Kerry, mother of us all?
ReplyDeleteNope, it's not me.. but I'm not sure who lives in the glades either.
ReplyDeleteLaurie came to my mind! :D but I'm not sure...
ReplyDeleteGosh, not sure...but I do love what you wrote :D
ReplyDeleteMary?
ReplyDeleteor is it Kerry?
Sweet sentiments.
Mary, perhaps?
ReplyDeletePerhaps "glades" is a metaphor for the open spaces created by these lovely poets, speaking wisdom and truth. I think she is writing about the Toads collectively---all of you are inspirations to her, a clearing amongst the trees, as it were.
ReplyDeleteThanks Emma! I'm sorry I didn't recognize my home here. The history and peoples should have given it away!
ReplyDelete