Memories of Snow

Hide And Seek

Hide And Seek

"One thousand...
Two thousand...
Three thousand..."
Charlett's voice followed me,
as I crept
up the wooden steps
and slipped
onto the faded gray porch.

Its back against the side of the house,
the white Frigidaire beckoned,
its silver handle reflecting
the light
from a hundred watt bulb.

Opening the Frigidaire,
I crawled in
and let the door close.

Curled u p,
like a child in its mother's womb,
I waited
for Charlett to find me.

Counting
the seconds with each breath I took,
one thousand...
two thousand...
three thousand...
I surrendered
to the scent of sealed metal
and the sound of my own heart.

Light
flooded the darkness
waking me up.

Framed
by the Frigidaire's open mow,
my Grandfather stood
his arms reaching out to me.

Poet's Note: ▼

I wrote this in Qawl 153 B.E. It is the memory of a "hide and seek" game I play when I visited my cousins on their farm.