Little Girl Lost by Shanna Hale
Her footsteps,
not softened by a forest’s foliage,
echo on concrete,
yet she feels the wolf
stalking her, just the same.
no blood-colored cape
to announce innocence-not-yet-lost,
No beggar woman
to trade good deeds with,
no name to guess
to save immortal soul or first-born child.
Just her,
wondering why,
if her parents did not abandon her,
if she stayed firmly on the path,
(and I assure you, she has),
she still finds herself lost.

Tears are even more elusive
than bread crumbs;
happy thoughts hard to find
when blood flows,
(and I assure you, it does,
rivers released a drop at a time,
never enough to run dry,
just enough to know dying would actually hurt).
She yearns for the peace
of a hundred years’ sleep,
and knows no man
could ever get through the barriers
erected by none other than her own hand.
So she wanders,
little girl lost,
hoping against hope
that when the wolf finally holds her,
she will not find herself
alone
in her own embrace.

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