Long black and grey strands hanging down in streaks,
While periodically heard are some loud creaks,
The floorboard bearing the significance,
While the heart keeps pounding with impatience,
Reminiscing farfetched old memories,
Of laughs and other activities,
From a depending infant to being a toddler,
Then the teen to becoming older.
An absence lingering in the air,
To and fro rocking the chair.
Waiting for a tintinnabulation
While the pendulum of the grandfather clock keeps ticking in oscillation
A tiny ding echoes through the silent foyer,
And the couple reclining with anticipation sit up in a flutter,
A wrinkled pair of hands grabs the tiny device that's on the table in a jiffy,
While the other's eyes twinkle with expectancies.
If a single tintinnabulation could bring such an elation,
A visit as a whole could make them feel a whole new sensation.