A Walk Down Memory Lane

A Walk Down Memory Lane
Henry Potts-Rubin

Frog sat in his parlor,
watching the screen.
not much was playing,
just some show for the teens.
He grabbed the remote
and quickly pressed “power.”
Frog looked at the clock:
five past the hour.

His hand touched his cheek,
feeling the wrinkles.
Once soft as a peach,
now paper with crinkles.
“Where did the time go?”
Frog silently asked.
“Once I was handsome,
but that was the past.”

“What’s that you say, Frog?”
Mouse entered the room.
“Nothing,” Frog grumbled.
“Go back to your broom.”
“I’m your wife, not your maid!”
huffed Mouse, a bit mad.
“Something is wrong, Frog;
I can tell you are sad.”

Frog crossed his arms.
“Am NOT!” he then whined.
“How ‘bout,” Mouse smirked,
“If we go outside?”
“No,” mumbled Frog,
“I’m happy right here.”
“Don’t lie to me, Frog;
You’ve lost all your cheer.”

Frog looked at the clock
and then down at Mouse.
He scanned over the parlor,
a mess of a house.
Clothes scattered around,
books piled high.
Memories lost
brought tears to Frog’s eyes.

“How ‘bout now?” whispered Mouse.
“Now will you walk?”
“Almost,” croaked Frog.
“Let’s get rid of that clock,
clean up the parlor,
put the books in a box,
wash all the clothes,
and then we shall walk.”

Mouse packed up the books,
put the clothes all away.
She dusted the parlor,
wiping up all the gray.
Frog slowly stood up,
rubbing his face.
He reached for the clock,
and took it down from its place.

Frog looked in the glass
that covered the clock.
He saw his reflection
and it came with a shock.
All of the wrinkles
and dust from the house
made Frog who he was.
He had grown old . . . with Mouse.

Frog remembered those days,
the ones spent with Mouse.
The days when they’d courted
and bought their first house.
Frog picked up an album
that sat on the floor.
He flipped through the pages,
but could bear it no more.

Frog set the book down
and walked over to Mouse.
“Remember,” he asked,
“When we bought our first house?”
“Of course!” replied Mouse,
taking hold of Frog’s hand.
“And remember our wedding
with the Hippo-Hop band?”

“Darling,” said Mouse,
“With our memories stored,
let us walk, let us run,
let our youthful hearts soar.”
Frog took up his hand
and rubbed at his nose.
“Come on now, my dear,
now let us go.”

“Finally!” joked Mouse,
“I thought you’d never say yes.”
“It takes time”, said Frog,
“to answer what’s best.”
“You’re silly,” said Mouse,
“I love you, you know.”
“I love you,” said Frog,
“Now a’ walking we’ll go.”

about the author
Henry Potts-Rubin is a freshman at Yellow Springs High School. He owes his love of writing to Ms. Aurelia Blake.

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