To Carey

There was a boy named Carey
We were both from Martins Ferry
And were teenage Sweethearts
That my Dad demanded be torn apart

Forty-five years later
We met a few times for dinner
Full of anticipation
I soon felt his hesitation

Such a disappointment
Adding to my stressful visit
To tell my dying mother goodbye
The situation made me cry

While sorting through my mother's treasury
I selected something as a memory
A ceramic frog resting
Displayed for years on the entrance landing

On my flight back to Sacramento
I decided to use this frog as a memento
Naming him Carey
As an ongoing reminder of a tale of fairy

As one dying mother's wish
She promised to watch me from heaven's mist
To guide me to my prince
Hoping wishing and praying that Carey is the last frog that I kiss

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