Lonely Wolf

Little Red, Little Red, running to her Grammy’s bed.

So the story goes, they said, that big old Wolf killed Grammy dead.

He ate her fast before Red came, disguised himself with Grammy’s name,

Under covers and smiling sweet, the wolf hoped for another treat.

Red came by with apple pie, but Wolf had other things in mind

And Red was gone before she knew and all Wolf had to do was chew.

At least that’s how the story goes, but really who does really know?

No one knows but a mere housefly, passing by, though rather shy,

Stayed close to get a closer look to see if Wolf was dirty crook.

From the start the fly saw all, and by the end clung to the wall

For what he saw was very weird: he witnessed Grammy grow a beard!

Then tail then paws then snout, large jaws

Snarling teeth and furry feet.

And then the fly knew who was who and Wolf was Grammy through and through.

Wolf never ate up grammy dear, for Wolf was Grammy all through the year!

A secret Grammy had to keep all her life, in corners deep

She had to hide in nooks to sleep so Grammy wouldn’t eat the sheep

But that one day it was too much, and Grammy felt bit out of touch

And when she heard Red skipping by, in her cloak with apple pie,

Grammy transformed to a wolf, and jumping to the cottage roof

She watched as Red approached so near, beloved Red, with none to fear

And Grammy darted in the house, turned off the lights, ran like a mouse

To leap into her bed so nice, and in clothes that would suffice

To trick small Red into believing that her Grammy was not deceiving

And actually a hungry beast who was looking for a feast.

But through the scene Fly saw a gleam

In Grammy’s eye that wasn’t mean.

A look of sorrow and of despair, it didn’t seem all very fair

For one to judge old grammy dear, for when she saw Red it was clear

That Grammy had not asked for this, as no one would, and please don’t miss

That this is true for each and all, that we cannot control our call

And there are some things beyond control that have to happen. In our soul

We know that which we want to be but is it really ours to see?

For in the case of Grammy dear, and you and me, those far and near,

That destiny is oh so free and can’t be touched though sad it seems

But also good and don’t forget that fate is real and I can bet

That you will be in Grammy’s shoes, trapped in a corner, no path to choose

So never judge by actions only, as those in corners are those most lonely.