I’ve never been good at seeking.
Stuffed under a rock behind
your mom’s old wagon
was always my first guess.
Running along the padded
bed of roses, never thought
to check further.
Why would anyone go that far?
Hiding was always easy.
You can hide in plain sight,
the seeker never looked to close.
Always in the neighbors backyard
or in the basement under
the ping-pong table.
I was right behind you.
Saint's Muse 