Ode to a Toad

A lonesome weekend, the toad was gone
to turn into a rubber glove
that needed squeezing.

And when I swooped him up
he would not admit his dismal
state, watched me out of
his upturned eye and said

"You doing anything special tonight?"

L. Fullington

If you have any comments on these poems, L. Fullington would be pleased to hear from you.