As a child I would run to the nearest tree to hide in the green branches. It was my safe refuge– my hideout. Years have passed, and now I won’t be able to climb any tree. Even if I could, I would be afraid of spoiling my clothes, getting them torn by the rough bark, getting cuts on my hands, getting insects’ bites, being bitten by spiders, or worse –getting my nails scraggly.
This brings me to a question why do we change so drastically as we grow up?
Now my nearest hideout is my room.
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DAILY PROMPT
Hideout
Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
Flowers and Breezes 