In the stillness of the moonlit night,
Frogs gather, a curious sight.
Coated in a sheen of emerald green,
They croak their songs, serene, unseen.
On lily pads, they leap and play,
In water’s gentle cradle, they sway.
With eyes like orbs of golden hue,
They watch the world, both old and new.
Their symphony, a nature’s choir,
Echoes through the night, never to tire.
Each note a story, each croak a tale,
Of rain-soaked paths, and verdant trails.
As dawn approaches, they find retreat,
In shadows cool, from daylight’s heat.
Yet in our hearts, their songs remain,
A reminder of life’s gentle refrain.