Grandad’s garden is huge.

It has lots of places to hide.

Behind the tree, within the shed,

Behind that ginormous bush!

Eyes closed; I have counted to ten,

A trick I have learned from TV.

“Grandad! Where ARE you?”

A faintly distant reply comes

From somewhere in the garden,

“You have to find me, William.”

A pause. A rustle in the bushes.

“It’s the whole point of the game!”

 

This garden is far too small,

For a decent game of hide and seek.

There’s no point kneeling behind the wall

And the foliage is too sparse and bare.

Crouching beside this evergreen bush

Hurts my knees and my bulging girth

Clearly protrudes from the undergrowth!

A dead giveaway!  The attraction

Of hide and seek palls after a while

But returns on seeing William’s

Beaming smile.

“Found you, grandad!”

 

“Everybody’s out on the run tonight,”

I sing, like Springsteen, to myself.

“But there’s no place left to hide!”

To William I say, “Your turn to hide.

I will count to ten!”