The Big Bad Wolf and the Red Riding Hood

He went after her, following her every move, every flap of her cape, eyes locked at the red of her head.

Foolish was the wolf, that actually believed himself to be, even for a moment, the hunter, when all in all he was only following after a bait, oblivious to the trap ahead of him.

She led him thought the forest, disappearing from his view from time to time, but, as he ran on after her, he would always catch a glimpse of her cape turning on this or that tree, under a trunk or over a pile of rocks. And so he would keep up his hunt.

At some point thou, she scaped his tracking, and for a few minutes he found no trace of her… untill he got to an opening in the woods, filled with a house. The door open, and the riding hood hanging inside.

The wolf walks in, happy with himself at his opportunity, smirking and smiling. “The little one knows nothing of whats coming for her.” the wolf thought.

. . .

She was thinking the same thing.

. . .

He attaked.

She fought back.

Cisv Song

This is very possibly the song I sang the most during my whole life:

“Here in this village you may see
children living happily
Different race and different land
Here we come to understand
one another’s point of view
learning trought the things we do
How alike am I to you

Here we live and eat and sleep,
Talk and laugh and somethings weep;
Here we share our hopes and fears,
Build a bridge across the years,
Sow a seed and plant a tree
Beneath whose branches there may be
All the nations gathered free

That our children so may grow
in a world we did not know,
Sharing all they have to give,
Learning how to love and live.
In our hands the future lies;
Seize the moment ere it flies.
Stamp the present with an act;
Dare to make our dream a fact!”

Homenagem a uma amiga que se encontra distante.

Jules, vc eh a luz da minha vida que se vai e retorna como a primavera, sempre no horizonte, sempre linda.

Na sua presenca os passaros parecem cantar mais alegres e as flores se abrem para absorver um pouco da sua beleza e eu, um mero mortal, pouco mais posso fazer se nao admira-la nos poucos momentos que possuo com voce
vossa beleza eh de tal pureza que pode-se percebela refletida na gotas de orvalho nas flores do jardim
fico feliz em saber que lhe causo um carinho bem vindo.
pois todo o carinho e calor que eu puder lhe oferecer jamais serao o bastante para retribuir uma unica tarde em que tive permissao de observar-lhe os belos olhos
E agora, em poucos minutos, voce se vai, e o calor que sinto em meu amago devido a sua companhia se esvaira
e tudo que restara em seu lugar sao as boas memorias que me acompanham durante os invernos dificeis, de como voce, minha primavera me fazia tao feliz.
“eu volto com jasmins!”  ela me diz
seriam jasmins? que perfumam seus cabelos? seriam jasmins, que vejo refletidas a brilharem em seus olhos?
Uma bela flor de doce perfume pode enfeitar vossa beleza, mas a mais bela flor se encolhe quando comparada a tal graca
e os beija flores do jardim voam a sua volta procurando a origem de tal amavel perfume.

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Aceito criticas, mas saibam que isso eh um chat de facebook, nao um poema calculado, e eu nao possuo acentos mesmo, nao foi um erro.