Pitter-patter

Creepily quiet it was, mind was not...

Had she come a long way, made her taut...

Seeing the city zoom by the 21st floor window bay...

Brought about a colorful riot of play...

Piping coffee and the plume of its steam...

...Hazed what she called as a living dream!

Oftentimes said and thorough...

Swing by the past...

Live in the present...

Hope for the future...

Who can tell how to make it easier though?

Vintage photo and the he

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irloom gemstone on her finger...

..makes it even hard to linger

Grandpa's English poetry and the likes of it... 

Just as warm as the tassels of Cashmere that cling fit...

Or the dried flower and it's thinned petals...

Woven mesh of memories that long draw battles...

Let go please if that's what it is...

So be it, so be it...

If only the pitter-patter was only a mindless chatter...

But it's not, and that's what makes it so much matter...