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.
-
Author:
KJ Delaney (
Offline) - Published: October 15th, 2021 21:11
- Category: Children
- Views: 11
Offline)
Comments1
You can't beat a day of puddling.
Something about that little chasm that tiny minds fearlessly go into to.
That includes me. lol
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