I remember the crowded space,
the clanging of trays and plates.
The people bustling by,
A case of serve or die.
I remember how the supply
Of soup containers dwindled,
And the box, sitting up high,
Holding the needed utensils.
I remember how I could not reach,
And tried to ask for help.
I remember I had to climb
High up on the self.
I remember stretching far,
And reaching to the sky.
I slowly slide the box toward me,
When suddenly,
I remember below my waist
I felt a tightening grip.
I remember my pounding heart,
As from my hands the box began to slip
I remember my sweating palms,
And my balance almost lost.
I remember the spinning room,
As I tried climbing down,
I remember turning swift,
To take a look around.
I remember the ally full,
With no one standing near.
But most of all what I remember,
Is the ever gnawing fear.
And now when I reach for boxes high,
Or climb up on a shelf,
I remember to watch for hands,
That grope about with stealth.
PC: Kenny Luo via unsplash
Finding Fairyland with K. J. Reitsma 