Teacups, A Poem

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

close up photo of teacup and saucer
Photo by Kim van Vuuren on Pexels.com


Afternoons with my Grandmother

Spent sipping tea.

Hot tea, no matter the weather.

Tea from delicate, beautiful

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.


Those teacups on the sideboard

Each afternoon selecting one,

My Grandmother and I.

And even though

I chose a different one




It felt as though

I never drank from

The same one twice.


They were treasures,

Little filigreed gems

From generations back,

Gifts in a time

Of hardship

Or celebration

Or 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


Loved and


Drinking tea

With her sweet, sweet Grandmother

In a sunny parlor

From a beautiful teacup.



5 thoughts on “Teacups, A Poem

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