For Betsy, tonight.
There are green love hearts
On the grave of the frog who died.
He doesn’t deserve them – he was cold as a stone inside.
She cared for him for years and in the end he defied
Her love, her help, her hope, her pride.
I wonder if he ever lost any sleep
Over how she’d feel inside
When he hop, skipped, jumped
Off life’s slippery slide,
And leapt over to the other side.
I bet he never even gave a thought
To what of him would remain, would last
When after so many years of love,
He finally, slimily, selfishly passed.