Alora Grace
Pitter Patter.
The sound she makes when she walks.
It’s been a year since birth and she’s grown so much since then;
both physically and mentally.
One can see the change just by looking at her.
Her once tiny hands, now the size of my palm.
And her body, once so frail and small,
now full of strength and with many rolls.
Her hazel eyes shine with excitement
while she smiles with a crinkled up nose.
Trouble brewing, in her head full of brunette curls.
No one can resist a feeling of happiness
when watching her play; waddling back and forth between toys.
It brings a smile to my face, to be so honored as to have her as a sister.
In future years, we’ll be good friends,
and I’ll tell her stories of when she was young.
But for now, those stories must wait.
And until that time, I’ll watch her grow,
listening to that soft
Pitter Patter.
Pitter Patter.
The sound she makes when she walks.
It’s been a year since birth and she’s grown so much since then;
both physically and mentally.
One can see the change just by looking at her.
Her once tiny hands, now the size of my palm.
And her body, once so frail and small,
now full of strength and with many rolls.
Her hazel eyes shine with excitement
while she smiles with a crinkled up nose.
Trouble brewing, in her head full of brunette curls.
No one can resist a feeling of happiness
when watching her play; waddling back and forth between toys.
It brings a smile to my face, to be so honored as to have her as a sister.
In future years, we’ll be good friends,
and I’ll tell her stories of when she was young.
But for now, those stories must wait.
And until that time, I’ll watch her grow,
listening to that soft
Pitter Patter.
