A Familiar Rhyme for the Darkest of Times

In the dark of the night,
a bark, a bite.

The whooosh of cool night breeze,
shakes the grasses and trees.

A comforting glance from the Moon
saying: don’t worry girl, you’ll be there soon…

Granny’s silent wails
wags like wolfs tails…

I rush in and see, to my dismay,
through the forced open doors, the       wolf       got       away.

Granny’s blood stains my now Red hood,
and I vow my vengeance to that wolf in the wood.