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!