Chocolate

The house is sleeping
as I slip into the pantry.
Stuggling to peer over
shelves.
Reaching my hands up
I hear a door open.

Bare feet down the hall,
I hide behind the potato sack.
A cabinet, a faucet, running water, footsteps receding.

I resume my search,
my fingers skim over
tins, onions, then
a thin wrapper.

Hastily I bring
it down, chocolate.
I run back to bed,

prize in hand.

Mommy won’t be happy tomorrow, but then again,
Hopefully she will never know.

By: Leilah Bhyat