A Glass of Pie

I always believed the best adventures began with dessert, somehow crossing the threshold just past Granny's kitchen.

Like that time when kaleidoscope tea danced in our grandmother's sunlit parlor. "Tangerines," you said, eyeing the mismatched cups, absentmindedly recalling...

Maybe it was pancakes or pie, from somewhere beyond our childhood to this echoing memory lane. Or perhaps I imagined it wrong. After all, isn't pie just another chapter of curiosity?

Lost Balloons and Forgotten Epiphanies

Floating hopes drift silently overhead
tethered to nothing, reminders of yesterday's laughter. "There's the yellow one," you whisper nearly holding hands with the orbiting spheres, as its string dips low with unsung potential.

Did we ever name them, darling?
A question unanswered, drifting along these whispered paths. Maybe names weren't crucial punctuations to fate's story.

Instead, try piecing melodies – essentiels lost moments aside – into braided tales.