Yoohoo! I'm ready! Come and find me!
The sacks in the toolshed smell like the seaside.
You make yourself little in the salty dark,
Close your eyes tight and hope your feet aren't showing.
Better not risk another call, they might be close.
Don't sneeze whatever happens. The floor is cold.
They're probably searching the bushes near the swing.
What's that? That sounds like them. They're coming in!
Don.t breathe or move. Still. Someone knocks a can.
Feet mutter. Somebody comes very close,
A scuffle of words, a laugh, and then they're gone.
They might be back. Careful in case they come.
They'll try the greenhouse, then in here again.
They're taking a long time, but they'll come back.
Risk a peep out perhaps? Not yet; they might creep in.
A good hiding-place, this: the best you've ever found.
It's funny though, they haven't tried again.
Can't hear a thing. They must be miles away.
The dark damp smell of sand is thicker now.
Give them another call: Yoo-hoo! come and find me!
But they are still elsewhere. They'll think you're clever,
And ask you where you hid. Don't tell them. Keep it secret.
It's cold in here. You can't hear anything.
But wait. Let them hunt a little longer:
Think of them frowning at each other
Where can he be? We've looked all over.
Something tickles on your nose. Your legs are stiff.
Just a little longer and then creep out.
They're not coming back. You've tricked them properly.
All right. Push off the sacks. That's better.
Good to be rid of that unpleasant smell.
Out of the shed. Hey! Here I am! I'm here!
I've won the game! You couldn't find me!
The darkening garden watches. nothing stirs.
The bushes hold their breath. The air is cold.
Yes, here you are, but where are they who sought you?