Wait, don’t…
I reach for her hand,
so small, as she rushes toward.
Feet swim in boots,
lemon yellow, that cover bare feet.
A leap,
straight up instead of forward,
crashing down to
a puddle where sidewalk meets street.
Her face with smile turns.
The sound, so soft; a whispered squeak.
The water churns
between soles, and now, wet rubber beneath.