I’m holding Grandma’s cup of tea
bone china, gold rimmed flowery.
I close my eyes and touch my chest
rubbing my chin, grey hairs stubbly.
To teach me honor, was her quest
my time spent with her, I was blest.
She loved her tea, spiced of Darjeeling.
Hours – in me – she did invest.
Soft words spoken, never snarling
never heard her once quarreling.
Only a smile on her face
as ’twas true, I was her darling.
Some say time heals, but can’t replace
Grandma’s splendor of high tea graced.
Nor the touch of her warm embrace
Nor her touch of the warm embrace.