Hide ‘n seek on a pristine lake,
A game at which you reign.
You neared the edge, we heard the break—
Deaf grin; our cries in vain.
Father’s lumbering sprint to reach
Your form beneath the ice.
Waiting, hoping that you would breach—
A glove would have sufficed.
Can you see us, brother of mine,
From mists on which you perch?
Plucked too soon from summer’s vine—
At last, you end your search.