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Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #927115
A child's viewpoint when accidently locked out in the courtyard.
The Courtyard

The gate latch is too high to reach.
I'm trapped here.
The rough, brown, wood leaves splinters
in my tiny fingers.
I'm frightened.
I need to go to the bathroom.
It's hot and silent here.
I can hear my heart beating.
The sliding glass door squeals
under my prying fingers
with each movement
and I feel more alone
each second that passes,
smaller.
Oh, gosh
I taste my salty
teardrops
as they multiply.
The gate latch is
still so far away.
Thank goodness, I hear
footsteps.


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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/927115-The-Courtyyard