Little Sister Lost

I woke in the sunshine
and salvaged my book
from the damp grass.
I stretched..
I looked around..
She wasn’t there.
I looked behind the stone,
then under it.
A pretty blue mouse
from under,
but no little sister.
Then I thought 
of the rabbit hole under the tree
where the scraggy, stripy cat
had spat and snarled at us 

I found the tree
and the rabbit hole.
Was she down there?
It was too small for me to go.
I shouted down
and scraped
and scraped
and scraped
to make it bigger.
A rabbit would do better
with it’s big feet.
A rabbit,
like the one standing behind me
with such big strong feet.
Help me.
Help me.

He sniffed disdainfully
and removed one hand 
from the pocket of his purple fur jacket
to brush the soil I’d splatted
on his white velvet breeches.
Such big strong feet
for digging.
Help me.
Help me.
Help me.
He gave me his spade.

I started to dig
and dig
and dig.
Dig till it was big
enough for me to go
Scrabbling down.
looking for the light
and my little sister.

First published in Silver Birch Press, Fiction series, January 2016


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