Wednesday, May 31, 2017

The Children in the Closet

by Jim Rapp

The host invited me to see his new "toy,"
duly kept in a gun safe tucked away
in a secret place; not left leaning in a run-
of-the-mill glass-doored gun display.

To see the prized possession we had to
walk through a family/recreation room.
To my pleasure I saw two youngsters who,
busy with toys, were "lost" their refugium.

"Who are these?" I quizzed my host,
who seemed to little notice them.
The girl was barely nine, I'd guess, at most,
the boy, six. They glanced, but not again.

"They came with the place," my host replied,
"They appear at times, take out the toys
and play until of dolls and cars they've tired,
then put away the toys of girls and boys."

"Do they live here?" I asked in amazement.
"In the closet," he explained and pointed.
They glanced but continued their enjoyment;
my host proceeded to the guns, undaunted.

An hour later my host pointed to the place
in which the children were at play.
No dolls or cars were littering the space,
and no children on the carpet lay.

"When will they come again?" I asked.
"One week, or two. They're capricious;
I'll see them suddenly when at some task.
They'll play an hour or two then leave us."

It was a selling point, he indicated;
a reason why he bought the place,
a reason the former owner vacated,
who was scared by Elvin faces.

"Do you know their names?" I asked.
"They are very shy," he said; "they seldom speak,
but even though they try, their names to mask,
"Kylie," and, "Aidan," they whisper on the sneak.

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