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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required Whispered words from behind a wall to cronies gathered hale and tall. “Go on ahead.” He said. “Let me see.” “If I can turn her sweet, on me.” From within, she heard the tale, the rye snickers, the wolves’ wails. Yet, so like the doe in lantern light, the wail entranced, did not cause fright. Wide-eyed, stunned, the morsel stood, in frozen stance within the wood within his reach and steady glance, the wolf approached, as if to dance. With swaggering grace, he set fast pace, a honeyed tongued Knight on the chase. He spoke of honor of valorous deeds, of his manly virtues, and she took heed. “No, no, no,” said the Maid, she was shy. “I’m afraid.” She said. “Do I hear a lie?” He turned up her chin, and eye to eye, he stroked her cheek and heard her sigh. He offered her cake, this starving waif with trembling hands, she took the bait for upon his full lips , tongue and skin, she could taste the sugar deep within. He sought the warmth of blood and bone, he thought the conquest all his own. Yet, she held a hope buried deep within, to bring forth the goodness, she saw in him. Oh, she could well feel his aching need, 'twas his seedling soul, she sought to feed, the prey, prayed, long to touch his heart to give the wolf a brand-new start. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Many’s the times, his teeth came near to the blue-red vein in her throat, and many’s the time the Universe stopped like a dandelion seed afloat.... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The wolf in him balked for a short time, tasted the joy of goodness’s wine; loving, and feeling, and drinking anew, what God has offered to each of you. Could he extinguish this pure light? Could he bring death to this delight? Sorry, for the prey was the wolf within. He was sore sorry; she’d let him begin. Sorry, he could not grow in her arms. Sorry, he could not succumb to her charms. “Sorry,” was on the tip of his tongue as he left, the prey on a run. “Sorry.” said she, as her soul rose higher, made stronger, though bathed in desire like the fabled Phoenix so, she rose, on the white wings of angels in repose. A prayer floated back, as she drifted above a prayer, she sent with her heart, to her love. It echoed his sentiment of so many days. “Sorry Love…” She said. “May the Wolf find his Way.”
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