A megalomaniac metamorphosis the frog,
the butterfly is merely a flying worm.
Line Count: 2 (I counted them)
Because I remembered it
Note: This was one of a myriad of frog poems I wrote in my early twenties. The others were longer than two lines and are likely lost forever. But my recall of this one (occasioned by bumping into the prompt “fish” in Express It In Eight today) enables me to record it against future loss. It dates from about 1970.