(inspired by the words on a card)

 

I painted a little frog

In the hope that it’d come to life

To tell me stories of love

To tell me stories of love

 

Jumping from a white leaf

From underneath my brushstrokes

And a paint that could not run out

A paint that could not run out

 

The wind tore through the trees

As the day ticked right along

The waves lapped at my soul

The waves lapped at my soul

 

I grabbed my steel strings

In the hope that they’d sing to me

Love stroke every strum

Love stroke every strum

 

I met with the little frog

As the wind died down

The leaf still in my hands

The leaf still in my hands

 

We sat together on the shore

It asked me if I felt you close

This paint could not run out

This paint could not run out