The legacy loft

Warm beads of sun shine through a pierced glass window, shadows cover corners as if shielding the view, All she ever needed was the molten sticky dew, giving her a sense of an old place she once New. The room smelled of vanilla bean and brown sugar a smell that melted together as the holidays grew near. The loft was her version of a calm secluded pier, the memories that clattered the walls were those of the old and new descendants of a legacy so profound there could only be a few, who new, of the lofts tender secrets and precious past. she sat there on the plush luxuriant pastel sofa planning the next lifetime of memoirs  to exceed her excellence in the generations beyond.  For she was the hidden piece of the the glue and bond.