Connie L. Peters
I painted a frog on my wall,
not just a frog, a whole mural
complete with pond,
cat-of-nine-tails,
lily pads and dragonflies.
It wasn’t about the frog.
I don’t care much for them.
It was the dragonflies,
reminding me of Evinrude,
a hero on The
Rescuers.
But that’s a different story.
Seven years later, we took in
a thirty-something lanky man
with developmental disabilities.
His nickname happened to be Froggy.
Froggy lived with us ten years.
With his cute quirks, he delighted us.
When I was away from my family.
I missed Froggy first. Due to health
reasons, we had to give him up.
Now, when I exercise in that room,
I stare at that big frog on the wall.
I’m thinking about painting over it.
Perhaps, a lovely island scene,
in case it, too, is prophetic.
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