Neighbors’ grandchildren
Arriving Thanksgiving morn
Stampede down the hall
Lovely the patter
Not-so-little feet clatter
A nostalgic sound.
In Response to Daily Prompt: Percussive
cronechronicler
You don't know where you are going. You don't know how to get there. And you arrive just the same. Ghanaian saying
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I get that sense of sweet nostalgia from this Ina.
Thanks, Andrea. That certainly underlies my response to the Daily Prompt.
So sweet so much love
Many thanks, Lynn.
I love how you found a simple pleasure in a common sound.
Thank you, Susie.
Aw, flashbacks!
Yes. that’s what it felt like. 🙂
A lot of thanks!
Thanks for your comment. I’m glad you like it.
You’re welcome, yes I loved it!
Sound, noise or music
I decide my life’s colours
Brilliant blooms abound
–
Hello Ina,
I live in an apartment and your poem resonates – both figuratively and literally 🙂
Peace,
Eric
Hi Eric,
Brilliant decision. Nice to know you are an apartment dweller, too. I find it is a bit like Heloise living in the Plaza (is that the hotel?) with a pinch of A Gentleman in Moscow.
Take care,
Ina
P.S. It is the Plaza Hotel and Eloise, not Heloise.
Sometimes I hear kids out in the hallway of my building too! I like when they’re laughing 🙂
A wonderful sound!
As always you say so much with just a few words.
That’s why I write Haiku. It causes me to focus otherwise I can be quite verbose.