One day out back I took a step, through basement door, to take a breath. My first step out, I did not see, the tiny frog in front of me. My next step out, the frog did hop, I could not see, I did not stop. Beneath my foot, did seal his fate, no pain for me, though his was great. The truth be known, I nearly cried, for by my hand, the frog had died. Although I killed him lightning quick,the mess he left, it made me sick. To lift my foot, would make it worse, no one to hear my wretched curse.
"A Lasting Impression" penned by Mark Young - Posted Sunday, January 25, 2004.
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