Howls send chills through the hills
Causing accidents such as falls and spills
Mischa, the first redhead upon the world's stage
Mischa was a young girl at the time of her age
When tending the sheep of the family's herd
A wolf's deep howl made her concerned
Driving the sheep, with the thwack of a stick
Keeping them close, together they sticked
Then once up a hill on a rock she had slipped
Caught in debris, she nearly had tripped
Now that she has red hair, her brothers do laugh
But she is not trusted with her father's own staff
Upon the thwack it had startled the sheep
They fled up the hill, the sheep did so bleat
In the end, they fell off the cliff
Mischa's heart is now torn as a rift
The sheep in the canyon like meat in a bowl
The panic set in, the peace the wolf stole
She laid with her friends, and cried to sleep
She lost the lives of many a sheep
Though her mother washes her hair, and it'll never again be pure
Her sisters grow jealous of her newfound allure
Contributing to superstition making it worse,
Just like the Bible, her mother calls the color a "curse."
***
Thavien's Tokens:
This poem was inspired by and originally commented on Emma Kate Coleman's "Mischa."
Comments (1)
I've read Emma's story and I loved it! So glad you wrote this based on that! I enjoyed your poem!