There's a lady frog in my bed side table,
who tells me of lakes in form of a fable.
She drifts in phrases and travels in words,
making me fly with all the birds.
Abstracted, distracted, wandering little thing,
Where were you in this early Spring?
The tale of her worlds come from her lips,
And I to, want to become part of that trip.
Despite the fear of what may come,
I want this frog to be the one I succumb.
And even though I don't believe in the tale,
why can't a froggy kiss prevail!
And like a story, senseless alone,
I to, don't want to be on my own.
So fly with care,
from the place of the leprechaun,
and we can finally share,
a bit of our passion.
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