Cold mornings,
You're like a cup of tea;
Tingling your presence into the palms of my hands
giving warmth every beginning of my day.
Harmonious with your charisma.
Your fingers play melodious tunes.
Enjoying every song you learn in a jiffy.
Sparks of talent surprises in less than three minutes.
Every soft touch is like Daly City breeze.
The slang you speak is San Francisco 2005.
Uncommon morning, The lone purpose of your tears,
is the death of your best friend.
As you are child of a no one,
you were accompanied by a loyal pup.
So sorry that she departed.
I hope I can fulfill your yearnings.
Losing what made you feel less lonely;
besides your absent, busy Auntie.
Can I bring you happiness again?
Impossible.
You cannot replace someone's particular happiness.
Everything happened so quickly.
Can he revert to his jubilant self?
Probably never.
Times passes
He will accept it over time.
Patience, patience.