where I wandered, once, upon a time.
Remember well: some paths are good,
and lead to scenic views sublime,
where trees grow tall and flourish green,
but other paths take darker routes,
through blighted forest, seldom seen
and trees bring forth but stunted shoots.
I walked that way, once. Long ago.
A foolish thing you shouldn't do.
I had a reason, you may know.
A simple, silly reason, true.
A heavy basket. I walked slow.
My heavy cloak, against the chill,
the winter wind a bitter blow.
A walk that I remember still.
You know, too, what I found within:
the wolf. His eyes, and claws, and teeth,
where grandmother's home had been.
Her lacey cap. The wolf beneath.
The woodsman came. The wolf he slew.
I left the basket, took to flight.
The woodsman's dead. Grandmother, too.
I suffered but a single bite.
You heard the tale. You heard it wrong.
The woods is different, nowadays.
The old wolf's beaten, withered, gone --
Now there's me. Be you afraid.
