The Search
The toads have spread into a tribe;
their chief – they called him Sixth.
He was a goodly toad who tried
to have their problems fixed.
The biggest snare they now did face
was that of harmony.
They could not sing with much of grace,
the beauteous melodies.
Instead, they sung in croaks and gasps
cacoph’nous clashing dins.
For blown away were songs of past,
by cold, forgetful winds.
The Sixth did send his toads to search,
to hear the songs again.
The bravest of their toads sprang forth
with all their given strength.
And all the while the rest took care
of old, of tads and poles.
They fixed their anxious, starry stares,
beyond the murky pool.
God, Poems, and Emo 