The Froggy Pond

In the greeny depths of the pond,

There are monsters.

Pale fingers winding through the weeds,

Catching at my toes and trying to bite.

In the mottled and dappling waters,

There are jewels shining.

But I know they are only the mud siren’s call.

If I just dabble my fingers in

The monsters will swallow them

And sink back, satisfied.

Am I right? Tell me!

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