The pitter-patter
of tiny feet,
followed by giggles
full of as much glee as an infant
oblivious to the world.

Being chased by
the slap-clap-slap
that’s coming
from his feet.

She turns the corner
and peeks to look back
with a giggle.
At three,
not yet understanding
the game.

He takes the chance
to run and
swoop.

She gets lifted high into his arms.
The shrieks
guffawed in the air once again.

But then,
the door slams open,
and the blustering billows
roll in.
The ambiguous ashen grey settles
over the smiles,
killing the laughs instantly.

She runs her miniscule feet
and stays silent and hidden this time
Because she knows
that now,

Now they’re not playing a game.

He stands up tall,
shoulders back,
and swells his chest,
trying to hide
the glints
of terror deep in his eyes.

But all he knows at sixteen
is how to run.
And how to hide.
And at least for now,
how to be her knight in shining armor

And at the moment,
that’s the only option that’s available.

He’s brave for her,
because he has to be.

And as the thunder claps,
He takes the blows
without a peep.

And when the smog
finally disappears,
he cleans off the thick iron liquid
and hides the newly forming
black and blue,
and goes to sit with her.

To sit
and wait.

Wait for the time when
the chortles to sound again
and the chuckles
come closely behind.

Wait for the time when
life is safe
and is for once
on their side.