On Easter morning I see and little frog. It was as lazy as a old log.
It looked like he was talking fog.
That it was a scary clog.
The eggs were my favrate colors.
That i ran into my shutters.
Then i had to hunt the eggs.
That it looks like the eggs had legs and walked away.
Hey, add your poem to some music now!! G’Paw 😉
kinda like a rap;)