We don’t want to go home

Where are you hiding? The parents called.
Come out this minute, it’s time to go home.
They searched the camp,
they searched the woods,
they shouted hither and yon
until at last from the old oak tree
a giggle met their ears.

We don’t want to go home,
they shouted
as their hiding place was revealed.
Hard-fought negotiation ensued
with promises to return next year
before at last they slid down to the ground
and sulked all the way to the car.
At Poetic Bloomings, we’re coming to the end of the Granada Camp for Wayward Poets poem a day challenge.

About https://vivinfrance.wordpress.com

All poetry, prose and pictures posted here, except where otherwise stated, is my own, and may only be used elsewhere with my expressed permission. Please don't be inhibited from correcting my bloopers and making suggestions: Most of what I post here is instant, ill-considered and off-the-cuff, in serious need of editing.
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4 Responses to We don’t want to go home

  1. Misky says:

    Ahh. So cute, those little monkeys.



  2. colonialist says:

    My parents would not have entertained negotiations. Attrition would have resulted!


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