Guilty Pleasures
Day 9: Writer’s Digest April 2016 PAD
For today’s prompt, write a hide out poem. When I was a kid, we’d build “hide outs,” I guess from our parents or other kids. An assortment of criminals (fictionalized and real) have their hide outs. But maybe there are other hide outs, like a “man cave,” “she shed,” or the local pub. Heck, maybe it’s the library. Give it a thought, and I’m sure you’ll find the right hide out poem for you.
Guilty Pleasures
All my life I have taken pleasure
in finding just that perfect place
to slip into and hide for an hour
or even a day
As a young child I found a huge
oak tree about a block from my
home and another block from
the public library … it was
my first hideaway with limbs
to the ground and creating a
wonderful hidden room under
the leaves and branches
I could spend hours there
reading and watching the world
go by in my tiny neighborhood
unknown…
unseen…
happy in my alone time
my perfect place to read
and think and daydream
As I grew older and needed
just a few minutes to myself
the chosen hideaway was the
rooftop of my childhood home
Sitting on the top ridge I could
see the world … at least my world
Leaning against the brick chimney
I read and dreamed
mostly hid from my mother who
was afraid of heights and would
never climb the ladder to bother me
As I grew older, my hideaway became
whatever home I lived in at the time
My weekend refuge where the stresses
of a long week were wiped away and
I could do as I pleased
answer to no one but myself
My sanctuary to refresh, renew and
recharge before being forced back
into the workaday world on Monday
to have the life sucked out of me
once again while yearning for
my soft place to fall each weekend
In retirement, I have a new hideaway
Daily I enter my office …
the place where I am myself …
to write…
to read…
to create…
to think…
and …
to plan…
My place where I have choices
If the phone rings…
I can answer … Or Not…
Email is read and answered
Or Not…
Messages received … read …
and Answered … Or Not…
This hideaway of retirement
may just be my favorite one
Not really a place, but a feeling…
A state of mind …
Copyright © 2016 Annie Original Poetry
Always…I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
As Ever, Annie
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