Teardrops and teacups

I watched your sunlit days through walnut leaves,

The smell of roses reached to welcome ‘cross the path,

Where our footfalls on the shaded concrete lane,

Chasing sparrows from the garden bath.

Past the little kitchen window, there we played,

Where visitors came to and through the door,

O’er giant steps, onto aging rugs and boards,

Those already there, urged to wait some more.

Wind your way ’round warming calls,

Where plates laid out and tiny tea cups filled,

And tales and chatter and history recounted,

Where the old happy stories rebuild.

Then, out below on tiled bricks, beneath the willow tree,

The giant hanging greenery whose years swayed down,

Where sunlight shone through a wisp of branch,

Where long green leaves hung off branches brown.

Here the ever present tales of names. Names I can’t forget,

The teardrops of laughter, falling in teacups refilling,

The teardrops of laughter, echo down the years,

Teardrops, my reminiscences, into the saucer spilling.

 


Thank you M

INSPIRED BY  PUTTING MY FEET IN THE DIRT
THOUGHTS AND PERSPECTIVES FROM THE MIND OF A COMMON GIRL
COPYRIGHT © 2017 GRANT FENTON – ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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