In the mid-summer, third grade, I found myself a boy at camp. With new friends we played, At the small quarter arcade. With what a five could buy, We played the pusher and pinball, Finally our savings had dried, So we took to the woods outside.

Deep in the pines and the briars, We settled on hide-and-seek, There I was told to be a hider, And alongside me, was her. The count rattled our stand, And I struggled to keep up, As she suddenly grabbed my hand. My, they never did find where we ran.

I looked thereafter in every face, Not by name, voice, or eyes — No, the feeling was all I could place. Then suddenly, at the end of the day, Before home I could head, A voice tugged at my hand. And up the snowy hill I went, As that same boy went to sled.