Hyde and Seek

In my youth my friends and I,

When we were of a mind,

Played little games, amused ourselves,

Were seekers of a kind,

But then grew old and cynical,

Unable to unwind

The fright of not just how or when,

But whom, we feared to find.

Things of which one ought to be scairt

The fretful Porpentine, I hear,

Grows scarier from year to year,

No less than Jabberwocks and ghouls

That frighten us and make us fools,

And like Godzilla and his ilk,

Make desperate for hugs, warm milk

And night-lights, all us children who

Are scaredy-cats, like me. And you?