The Courtyyard

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.