Red Riding Hood

• Anna Hogan, Grade 9
• Poetry
• 2012

The winter wind whistles, west through the trees,
The freshly bare branches exposed to the air.
Below, bright red gumboots, crunch the debris.
Out of a hood flows a mane of red hair.

A girl all alone on a wintery day,
Carries a basket of buns.
She holds her scarf tight so it won’t blow away,
as she runs to catch up with the vast sinking sun.

A light up ahead lets her know where to go,
to a house all alone in the trees.
In the front garden red roses grow,
The wind has died down to a breeze.

She opens the doorknob, heat rushes out.
She takes off her scarf and her hood,
She searches the room, her face clouded with doubt,
In the corner is a bed made of wood.

On top of the bed, a gran opens her eyes,
and smiles, a smile so bright.
Her beautiful granddaughter. What a surprise!
Bringing her dinner tonight.