wolves

Many a sun ago a little boy and a little girl sat beside each other with the familiarity of first cousins.

Together they were the summit of crazy heads for they had this strange discussion of how their life companion would happen.

They were too little then perhaps to know that sometimes dreams held dear would bubble prick away in a big world.

His dream held twinkling stars, the tring of bells and a white horse….tress…before his sleeping beauty arrived due.

He also had a dictum, “She will never leave me to the wolves” a dictum she imitated in unison, “He too will never leave me to the wolves”

And the little girl, almost a mish mash head held a dream too that trusted the one would arrive after twinkling lights,bells and a brown horse.

Across the years, they reached out to each other less to ask if one’s dream came true.

A dream that fragmented into bits, maybe left to the wolves.