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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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