Cloaked

** this is an answer poem to “Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing,” which speaks to something I couldn’t adequately express but if I didn’t attempt while it was close to my mind it wouldn’t have come out at all. I may revise later :)** Mother must have known where I really planned to go Basket full of good intentions knowing I would fail to mention the risky scenic route I’d take to deliver them She bid that I take caution and the path we would often walk hand in hand. She’d already run meadows of other lands and spent her curiosity Now preferring walks as planned. But not me Cloaked in visibility Scarlet red among the trees against the flowers at my knees I plucked and sniffed looked up to know I could be seen Then at once an amber stare Met my gaze, held it there It smelled my basket, hands and hair I was more intrigued than scared and reached that he might lick my hand His tongue was rough and wet as sand But I couldn’t feel his teeth His coat was thick and coarse as stone Whatever lies beneath must be tender and colder likely much older I kind of wish he’d bite I always rather liked how Red looks on my skin