The Tap of Time

Fingers tap against the table,

a rhythm that echoes in my chest,

not just a habit but a pulse,

a song of life played soft yet loud,

memories of laughter flood my mind,

as I drum with nostalgia’s grace.

It pulls me back to days of carefree dance,

when steps were magic, a vibrant release,

my feet, once light, learned to embrace,

the weight of joy through movement.

Each beat a thread connecting past to now,

a tapestry of anxious moments quelled,

with every tap I reclaim what was lost,

my soul dances in the echo,

alive, in every pulse of time.