She might have asked him if she cared.

But then it really mattered little; she’d left no room

For doubt, she’d other fats to fry in fires soon

To be and visions of her future flared

Up and out and all around her, the afterglow

Of hungry butterflies, and swarms of fireflies

Grown as clouds about them both. She denied

She’d ever known him…,”But I don’t know though;

Roads are sometimes forked, and as she’d said

From time to time, “It’s the early bird that gets the worm!”

He’d grin and smile: “You bet your booties, Girly! But get a firm

Grip on this ol’ toad before you leap, and put some forethought in your head,

You can fool a nightcrawler some of the time while he waits his turn,

But, they’s no nevermind t’arrive before the worm!