Your death,
is almost a dream,
feels just like old times.

In this dream,
I am your baby.
I count to ten;
Smiling with pride that I learned to count,
You go into hiding.

But in this game of
hide-and-seek,
you never come out of the dark.

And I can’t wake up.
I keep counting-
& I realise,
the day I stop counting,
is the day I go into hiding.

I will see you then.