Love grows as love goes
like polliwogs to frogs,
whose wiggliness no longer shows
in leaping out from logs.
...
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Oh I love this one so much! You tell it just the way it is. (I do wish I was a gaudy lily.)
So beautiful the alliteration, assonance of ''l'' in the first stanza, Barry.
Written many years ago. Though not I have run out of the older poems and so whatever comes next is new. I still have a small but growing backlog. I have always liked this poem too.
What is a polliwog Barry?
A tadpole, the first stage of becoming a frog. They are quite wiggly.