Sara's Poetry Pages - Sara McDarby  


  Little Red Riding Hood  

The big bad wolf
              came for a visit

but                              I found his teeth
                   weren't as sharp as

I expected.

             Not that I'm complaining
but it seems              very odd.

                I barely feel a nibble,

while I sit in waiting rooms
                        next to those

who have had their
              throats ripped out.

Where does my luck
                                      come from?

              But luck I have,
                                 and if guilt is the price

              I'm clearly getting off cheap.




May 2007



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