Still Counting Frogs
[Verse 1] Twenty-eight years of hushed and hallowed halls, Your fingerprints on every story, every shelf, You built whole worlds between those library walls, And somehow still had worlds left for yourself. Every Christmas Eve the kitchen fills with steam, Your mother's recipe, the flour on your hands, Some things you hold like more than just a dream — Some love you pass down where it always stands. [Chorus] Carol, you've been counting frogs on the windowsill, Sunday mornings, nine o'clock, just checking in. Every curtain call, every cap and gown, you feel it still — Sixty years of living, and you'd cry it all again. [Verse 2] The phone rings Sunday morning right on time, "Just checking you're alive" — we know you are. You never learned to love us in a straight, plain line, You loved us like a lighthouse loves a far-off star. You cried at every spotlight on a wooden stage, Every suitcase rolling through the terminal doors, And every goodbye added to the page Of a life that kept on giving more and more. [Chorus] Carol, you've been counting frogs on the windowsill, Sunday mornings, nine o'clock, just checking in. Every curtain call, every cap and gown, you feel it still — Sixty years of living, and you'd cry it all again.