I baked you a key lime pie.
I left it on your steps because
I'm just so doggone shy.

By now, I suppose the single rose
I plucked from the yard to match the card
I laid with the pie to catch your eye
Is eaten by a rabbit.

And now with the rain, it's all in vain:
The card will be wet; the pan will sweat.
The moment is lost, the pie best tossed--
I may sneak back and grab it.

And that is the way things go,
And everything is as it was,
And no one has to know.