Pitterpat
Feet on the floor
Lost prints circle the dust
Of yesterday
Rich thoughts go sour. What poor
Words to say.

Pitterpat
Such a small sound
Way up here
And way down there
But stones pile on stones
To build a case around my heart

Pitterpat
I've waited years and
Didn't even know.
Waited to sneak out the attic door,
And out the only window,
To escape my little
Prison.