Becky Boyle

Hawkins, Per. 4

Honors English


Hide and Seek

In the Tabasco heat of summer,

The air becomes so sticky and heavy

That it leaves me pressed flat on a bench

While insects become trapped,

Suspended in midair by invisible strings.

I dare not disturb the stillness.

I hold my breath

As day wavers around me

And night creeps softly into the park.

Leaping up suddenly, I shout,

"Ready or not, here I come!"

Pattering feet scatter

From the yellow pools of frantically waving flashlights

And from my watchful eyes.

They run like demons,

Chasing their own shadows, tall and skeletal,

Ducking and diving

Into flashes of darkness and light

With me not so far behind.

I pounce, gasping and laughing, upon my quarry,

And we collapse into the dry grass

That sighed away its greenness many weeks ago.

I streak away, leaving the new seeker

To commit his own search

As I find a safe place to hide.