Julian Lamarck

The hungry little girl,

Dragging her ragged dolly

Across the open field,

Was all alone without her mommy.

She looked this way and that,

Wiped a forlorn tear,

And sang a plaintive lullaby.

In the brush

Two eyes watched,

Drinking up the sight.

Moving in low, breathing shallow,

With careful, slithering steps,

A streak of teeth and fur,

And the trap was sprung.

Not knowing the reason

For her smile

At just that last moment,

Or what it was to be

Finally wanted,

The very big, bad wolf

Hadn’t stood a chance.

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