Hiding Place

“Come and see my hiding place!”

Said he, and I did go;

I looked into his little world

Of fancies—you know,

In sincere earnestness, he called

Me to his side and showed

His treasures, hidden dreams, and thoughts

Of how the world should go.

We passed some merry hours,

This strange young boy, and me,

And far beyond that day I came,

I’ve thought of how it’d be…

To go back to his hiding place,

And pass some jolly time,

In childhood and dreams—

Things now, for which I pine.

“I’d like to see your hiding place,”

I told him, just last night.

He turned to me, confused, and smiled,

“Ah—yes, that’s right…”

But fancy now, he cannot do,

For child no more is he,

But ever since that pleasant day,

He’s showed that world to me.

The boy has vanished long ago,

The man replaced, but see—

Since then, I wear the ring he gave;

He’s shared his dreams with me.