It’s the middle of December.
Fresh snow covers the ground like a blanket upon a bed.
Our breath rising every time we exhale.
Our feet crunching the snow;
packing it harder into the ground.
We’re making our way to
our secret hiding place.


We stop and watch for an infiltrators.
Then quickly we slam the door behind us.
We are in a barn;
one that has been deserted for years.
Sarah is a monkey:
scrambling her way up the wall of wood.
When she finally reaches the top
she gives me a rope and pulls me up.
We’re here…
at our secret hiding place.



We sit with our legs dangling off the edge.
Fear and excitement coursing through our veins
Knowing one wrong movement could send us flailing to the floor.
Yet still we sit soaking in the surprising warmth.
The birds chirping, twigs snapping, the creaking of the boards;
somehow makes it seem all the more peaceful.
How wonderful is
our secret hiding place?


We look down at the litter scattered everywhere.
I wonder if the ground aches with pain every time we walk on it…
or if it cringes every time we throw stuff carelessly upon it?
We hear our mom shouting in the distance.
It is time to leave
Our secret hiding place.