Ever the musical wonderer, he happened
upon the perfect pad it harmonics were
excellent for the voice he had.

Through the day he would sing, he would
try other locations. The shore, but the waves
would  splash out his unique sound.

Trees were a challenge specially for those
rather stubbly knees. But he jumped and
Sang an for his troubles a splinter he had.

Under water was a choose but sound was
but bubbles that rose above, not sound but
more like burps with a tune singing out.

He went to his spot, many had he tried so
long had he been gone from home to long.
The best spot for the acoustics choosing of his voice.

But too his sorrow it was gone, had it been taken?
moved away? he sang on the shore in moonlights
glare as tears interrupted his angelic serenade.

But it had heard his voice and from the depths it
raised, it had missed its companion gone all these
days, it slowly opened it took a night and day.

For when it was ready the frog jumped with joy,
not with a splash, not a belly display. He landed
gently on this pad and his music did play.

The flower did blossom at such a harmony,
and not of the usual colours, for each petal was a
moment of this frog unique beautiful sound.