Some kids hide in attics
some in the wooden shed outside
a hide away,
away from trouble  
and leave the world aside

but when I was younger
I’d hide up on the roof
leaving them below to wonder
“Where’d he go, just ****!”

but, “I’m just here, aunt Molly!”
here at the top, way up high
pretending I had wings
and a little closer to the sky

peering down on people passing
writing poetry on the roof
watching the world below me changing
still high and still aloof

till that day I come down wondering
where’d all the people go?
now that I’m much the more older
I’d really like to know