“Child hide!” my inner voice would say

As the voices boomed from the kitchen

And I would run as fast as my tiny feet would carry me

Behind the sofa I would hide

But as the noise began to

Ricochet off the walls and the ceiling

Crouched I’d sit

And

Hide my face away

Deep in the blackness

Of my cotton and acrylic cave

I would stay

Until the noise would cease

And they would come and  find me

And with remorseful hugs

They would hold me

On those days when my parents needed to talk

I was given refuge with my grandfather

His house was a refuge for people

And for books

Rows of musty smelling

Hard backed books

Treasure Island

Robinson Crusoe

Little women

And book with words that didn’t have chapters

But with words that dance beautifully across the page

 Betjeman, Yeats, Woolf and T.S Elliot to name but a few

I listened as he would recite stories of far off lands

And hang on to every word

Of those of verses of love he would recite

I remember his heart danced

But his voice would quiver

I now realise he was thinking of my grandmother

As I grew I would search for those words he read

And lock them away inside my head

  So for those times when my thoughts are dark

And those demons come a knocking

I no longer hide behind seated barricades

I no longer hide away in my cotton and acrylic cave

I escape to the land of words

Where demons  are not welcome.

©Copyright 2014 by June Bolland