Poetry

Ollie Ollie

In Poetry on December 27, 2011 at 7:36 pm

 

Giggling, she runs from the family room couch
where I sit and count, both hands over my eyes.
“1,2,3,4,5 and 5 is 10. Ready or not, here I come”

First, the kitchen, loudly opening and closing cabinet
drawers and doors, “No, not here. Not here, either.”
Into the dining room, lifting a corner of the tablecloth,

looking under every chair cushion, behind the curtain
and then into the living room to check behind all the
books on the shelf, “She sure has hidden good this time.”

Muffled laughter from the closet, her same hiding spot,
as I pass the half open door, again not seeing her smiling
presence crouching there, continue my search into the hall.

“I wonder where that girl can be, I’ve looked everywhere.”
A tug on my pant’s leg, I turn around in wild surprise,
“Here I am, Papa, see. Come and find me”

 

Carl Palmer, president of the Tacoma Writers Club, nominee for three Pushcart Prizes and the Micro Award, from Old Mill Road in Ridgeway, VA, now lives in University Place, WA.

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