The skies turned grey,
On that fateful day.
The song of the swallow,
was no longer mellow,
But a blood curdling cry,
that echoes through the sky.
The wind rushes through,
to spread the tragic news,
The trees shed leaf after leaf,
Mourning in disbelief.
How could she have known?
When he wasn\'t a stranger alone.
He was there at her concert,
watched her twirl in her pink skirt.
He took her to the park,
Let her play till it was dark,
bought her toys and sweets,
every time they\'d meet.
She was little red riding hood,
preyed upon by the wolf in the woods.
Who lured her in with acts of love,
While he sharpened his fangs, saying anytime now.
He yanked the poor young bud,
And threw her down into the mud.
He crushed her little innocent soul,
The lively breath of childhood, from her stole.
Oh, she was just a child,
Who had to witness the wild,
The dark and chilling side of the world,
Too young, too unkind.
Judy.S