Before the Dead Frogs Came

Leaving my childhood behind,
I stopped believing in fairy tales
The princess sighed
as I stored the books
read to me every night.

All lilypads were the same,
housing no princes,
frogs represent nothing but
swamps and night noise,
princes were silent or gone.

I’d heard you believed
in damsels in distress
and watched in fascination
as you made them dance
across your pages...
You asked me to follow
now the stories we tell
always end the same way
with the frog being squished
in some unfortunate accident

And we laugh
dancing happily
on their lily pads,
those vacant lily pads,
enchanted no more

We collapse, exhausted
the princess is free
and I wonder
who I was
before the dead frogs came.