Dance Amongst the Redwoods

by Aleza Freeman

Kissed a frog,
upon the head,
he tasted kind of sticky.

“My prince-to-be,
come waltz with me
amongst the Redwood Trees.”

“I do not waltz.
I’ve two left feet,”
croaked the snide green frog.

“Besides,” said he,
I don’t know how.
I only know the Macarena.”

“Still a frog,
and cannot waltz.
Not a price at all,” thought I.

And later that night,
I smiled with delight
as I dined on his two left feet.