Rubber Band Games
(a genetic thing)
-Joy Stalvey Barefoot
Now where, oh where, could he be?
Hadn't seen him for quite a while.
Things were a little too quiet
so I was searching his mischievous smile.
I called out from the back door,
perhaps he had gone outside,
but nature was still in order
. . . not there, I was satisfied.
Room by room, I searched the house.
That grandson was hiding somewhere.
The guest room door was closed up tight
so I figured I'd find him in there.
I opened the door to have a look
and Granddad peered up at me.
He was down on his knees, behind the bed
. . . caught, red-handed, I could see.
He looked at me with a sheepish grin;
then sighted right down his hand
at a little blond head, ducking and weaving,
as he fired off his rubber band.
