KJ Delaney

Kate (When We Walk)

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.

Comments1

  • Paul Bell

    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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