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.