I set young William a challenge

To develop his burgeoning perspicacity!

Find all seven frogs in grandad’s garden

With his torch, as the Winter sky was dark.

They were not real frogs, of course,

But plastic frogs of various, colourful hue.

 

Some were well hidden in the shrubbery

Camouflaged with bright green on green.

Others more blatant, low-hanging frogs

Were on the patio in the flowerpots

Or against the drainpipe in obvious spots.

 

He took to this game with alacrity,

Carrying his carrion proudly,

Placing them neatly in rows on the wall.

His torchlight scanned the night-time garden,

Like a searchlight seeking out enemy aircraft,

Crying out with delight,

When his light-beam struck gold!

 

Until the game was done

And William had won!

The frogs were found!

The job was complete!

 

I hope his life is full of discovery

So easy to locate and keep,

Though, I do know that some of life’s gold

Will be elusive and buried deep.

Still, I hope he retains his eager pleasure,

His willingness to go the extra mile,

Marching out with his confident stride,

Smiling his beguiling smile.

For that would, indeed, be treasure.