It wasn’t how difficult
the hiding place was
to find
that mattered.

It was that they would get
so close
and you hoped to be found
and not found
at the same time.

It was that they kept searching
for you
sometimes close enough
for them to hear
your heart pounding
if they only paused
and listened.

Years later
when you turned
and walked away,
although you wouldn’t admit it,
you held your breath
waiting for them
to run after you;
afraid they would,
afraid they wouldn’t.

Now,
you sit quietly
patiently
wondering
who is left
to come.