The Wardrobe Of Panic

I’m in the Wardrobe of Panic.
I hope I won’t be found.
I hear two voices talking.
I don’t make a sound.

‘You’re home early, darling.
I wasn’t expecting you yet.
Er…yes, a splitting headache.
That’s why I’m still in bed.’

I clutch my clothes to my chest.
My poor head’s spinning round.
I’m in the Wardrobe of Panic.
I hope I won’t be found.


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Just desserts?