Once there was a little girl,
Lily,
Her mother named her.
May she be as innocent as her name suggested.

Humming to her lullaby,
Playing with her baby dolls,
Whistling along the wind,
Scavenging through the knee-deep grass,
Her laughter echoed the countryside.

Once, her mother was ill,
Lily went to the town,
To buy grocery,
She saw a person behind the tinted window,
She saw him,
But did not see him.
A man,
She supposed,
Or perhaps a handsome prince?

“Who are you?”
She asked.
“I’m Jace Carstairs, a young lad from the neighbour town.”
Sweet voice,
Gentle tone.
He seemed nice.
"I'm Lily."

She had conversation with him through the tinted window,
He made her giggled,
He made her swoon,
He made her feel appreciated,
He made her feel loved.
He made her went home smiling the brightest.
He made her day.

Few days passed,
Lily had not seen him,
She missed seeing him,
She missed the conversation,
She missed the butterflies in her stomach.
She missed the feeling he made her feel.

“Mom, may I meet Tessa in the town?”
She lied.
"She's a friend I met the other day."
“Sure, my darling.”
She put on the prettiest red dress her mother made,
She ran to the town,
She knocked on the window,
“Hello, Lily.”
She smiled.

He made her feel pretty.
He made her blushed
He made her laugh.
He made her feel ecstatic
They had a blast.

“May I meet you behind the window?”
He proposed.
As if a long-dreamt wish granted by an angel,
"Yes,"
She agreed.

Walked passed the door,
Behind the mysterious but familiar window,
Sat something rather than someone.
Sat something not the person it once proclaimed to be.
Sat a wolf rather than a young lad.
Sat a wolf ready to spring.

Little did they know,
She never came out.
She was forever gone.
To where?
No one could tell.
But some could guess.