I think it is a damselfly
the faerie flew into the swamp landing with a splat
what was that? Asked a bull frog, his voice a bit flat.
I think it’s a damselfly, stated an enchanted cattail.
Oak tree rolled his eyes; he recognized his friend, Gale.
It is Gale, the faerie, she comes to see us in the fall.
No one was over excited except the bullfrog named Paul.
She is sitting on MY lily pad, he stated, sounding irritated.
You can have another one, the smiling faerie stated.
She was a libber, and a believer in finders keepers.
Besides, she was comfortable here, with these peepers.
She had flown a long way; she was ready for a well earned rest.
The bullfrog was fearful, her claim he dared not contest.
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