Home sick today, with an extremely bad cold,  I have been drinking copious amounts of coffee and tea  (and water, yes I know it is good for me!). With Kleenex in hand, and in my pajamas,  I immersed myself in writing and I came across one of the *very first* blog posts I wrote called Teacups.  I posted it several years ago.  And even though I am quite proud of it, this addiction to poetry instigated me to rework it into a poem rather than rest.  I do think it lost a little something in the effort, but here goes anyway….

Link to the original here:  TEACUPS

TEACUPS: A POEM

Afternoons with my Grandmother

Spent sipping tea.

Hot tea, no matter the weather.

Tea from delicate,

Oh-so-fragile teacups.

Golden and gilt edged and flowery.

With porcelain so thin

You Could see through it.

 

A cube or two of sugar,

The lovely sound of metal against glass,

A small silver spoon

Resting on a matching saucer.

Treasured teacups,

Little filigreed gems

From generations back,

Gifts in times

Of hardship

Of celebration

Of friendship.

 

Favorites worn and chipped,

Handles glued back on,

Always practical and frugal,

Never thrown away.

 

And so I sit

On a sunny afternoon

And I sip tea,

Hot tea

From a delicate,

Slightly battered teacup

And I remember a little girl,

Who felt so grown-up

and Special,

Drinking tea

With her Grandmother

In a sunny parlor

From a beautiful teacup.