Hiding Under The Bed…

Bed

I’m writing this poem from under my bed,

A place of calm to where I’ve fled!

I’ve found some dust, a pair of drawers,

Does no one vacuum these dusty floors?

I must be quiet or I’ll be found,

The kids can hear the smallest sound,

But wait I see a pair of feet,

Painted toes all nice and neat.

I try not to cough and be quite still,

Being on my own is such a thrill,

I don’t what them to find my hiding place,

I think I’ll make it my secret base!

I’ll leave a book, maybe some food,

Hang fairy lights to enhance my mood.

I hear a voice calling for me,

‘Where are you Mum, I want my tea!’

I heave a sigh and give up my space,

And plaster a smile upon my face,

‘Coming!’ I shout as I wriggle free,

No more dreaming under the bed for me!

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