I say, have you seen him?

You know who I mean,

That boy at the back of the class.

He hides in the shadows,

He sits all alone.

Don’t look! You’ll see through him like glass.

He watches the others,

He says not a word,

Our teacher walks by him each day.

You feel his eyes on you

But when you look round

He seems to have faded away.

I swear I once saw him,

Or perhaps I was wrong,

Was he just an illusion or trick?

Don’t try to use mirrors

Or catch him by spying

He’ll disappear faster than quick.

But when we all leave

For recess or lunch

He prowls all over the place.

He riffles our things

And hunts through our desks

But of him, he’ll not leave a trace.

You must know his name,

That boy at the back,

I think someone said his name’s John.

Or did they say Peter,

Or Stephen, or Paul?

Forget it. It’s too late. He’s gone

Ken Smith

Ken is a retired teacher who runs a local writers’ group in his home town of Denmark on the south coast of Western Australia.