Cicada Love

'Tis hard for me to fathom how
This bug I see before me now,
With ugly wings and bright red eyes,
Could ever be as old as I.

When I was wee and in a crib,
and I had slept the day away.
The bugs had come and made their noise,
To find a mate and lay their eggs.

For sev'nteen years I made the noise,
For while they slept beneath the ground,
I left my crib and grew, and grew,
From terr'ble tot to terr'ble teen.

And as I grew I learned of life,
From fam'ly friends and relatives,
I learned to love, I learned to hate,
I learned that four plus four is eight.

But these poor bugs, they were alone;
They were not taught to love or hate,
But kind old Mother Nature said,
"I'll teach these how to find a mate."

Now once again, the bugs have come
To sing their song and find a mate,
While I am left without a way
To find a girl to give my love.

How oft I wished I were a bog,
When out I looked to find this girl,
For then I could just sing the song
That Mother Nature taught the bugs.

Today I'm glad I'm not a bug
FOr I have found a girl to love
A life of joy awaits me now,
while these poor bugs await their death.

©James Garner May 1987