I gaze at the bottle
on top of the fridge.
I reach for it, a simple task
but it floats above me
just out of my grasp.

I crane my neck to see my best friend
a city skyscraper to my toy lego house
I stand like a dancer, balanced on toes
to see over heads and shoulders
blocking me from sight and experience

I am frozen in time doomed to never be released
My eyes forever looking upward at what could be
Others stretch taller day by day
but I remain the token “cute” one
Who will never reach that bottle now

I am not a child, but a woman fully grown
my perceptions and intelligence are no different
I am not a plaything for one to coddle
Nor am I a mascot or marvel to be gawked at
My purpose in life is not to bring you delight

I am a blade of grass amongst great oaks and pines
I am a bright star surrounded by fiery gas giants
I move with the quickness of a chipmunk and leave the others grazing behind
I radiate lustrous enthusiasm and emanate cloudless optimism
Harmony and hilarity are my constant shadows

I am a very small piece of a very large world
growing without gaining a single inch
I cannot reach the bottle on top of the fridge
but I am still very lucky
for the step stool is a very handy invention.