Once upon a time-
I sent her hopping along the garden path,
to deliver a slice of cake and
a bottle of wine
for her ailing grandmother.

I gaze thoughtfully, out my window at-
my little girl’s silhouette receding into the woods
her Red riding hood, streaks of red brandishing in the wind,
her smile sweet and simple,
her eyes lucid reflecting-
hope and expectancy
for the adventure ahead.
You ask me why I know this because her back is facing me.

She alights each cobblestone individually,
prudent as to avoid those crack and crevices,
one tiny hop at a time.

Little did she know of the inevitable danger
lurking ahead,
the uncertainty of the future waiting
to overtake her.

I see myself in my little Red Riding Hood.
I was once bright and expectant.
From my window-
is a view of me when I was her age.

And often fairytales neglect minor characters
like me.