He looked up quick and looked back down hoping he would not be found. Hide-and-Seek’s a dangerous game, and he had gambled with his hiding spot. He soon forgot the thought though slowly praying he would not get caught between the front room posies. Lace and flowers round him, cozy, peaceful here in safety doze he.
In and out of consciousness he faded back and forth. He whispered soft a tiny cough, like speaking to the boogey-man, “Just keep me hidden while you can.” A still small voice said, “It’s a plan.”
Someone big had quickly raced right by his quite quaint hiding place, and though he saw their shining face he knew they had not yet retraced, the lace, cased, space in which he hid. And so he did.
They called his name. They couldn’t find him.
That was his aim. The plants confined him.
But still the searcher called out loud, and vowed if he were so endowed he’d find the boy within the shroud and he’d be proud. And so the searcher started tapping on the walls his knuckles rapping, searching for a clue abiding, to tell where the boy was hiding.
Just as his search was on full throttle, he dropped the bottle.
The pieces shattered.
The boy was spattered.
Nothing mattered, cause that’s when his father found him. Last time he had nearly drowned him. His mother interfered before, but now she lay still on the floor. His father staggered and took a swing, his ring would sting, and then he’d wring the boy and fling him to the floor while shouting, “I’m the king in this house, got it!”
This isn’t how life should be, ought it?
Then with a roar, his father swore, the boy was sure the voice from before would have a cure, so he implored it with a shout, “Just get me out!”
The voice replied, “The help’s inside.”
The tear gas hit his eyes and then, he heard the sergeant cry out, “When the mother’s in the ambulance we need assistance with the boy.”
He barely could contain his joy.
A better life for his mother and him. He closed his eyes to count to ten. He’d never play Hide-and-Seek again. He had been saved. The way was paved. They’ve braved the brand-new life supplied and each and every day’s a stride, but always they will still rejoice at the wonderful gift from the still small voice.