The Tea Party

As I step on the threshold through a dense cloud of dust there's a moment I'm swept back, walking deep into trust To the arms of a childhood that never grows old and where the cold of an attic, is warmed by the past I remember the sun, and the man in the moon and the sandman who comes on a hot afternoon I remember small teeth, tucked under pillows, a dime and a wish, and a doll by the window There's a world under oils, and a friend to play house What brims with contentment, and worries are few a delicate balance of color and hue The old man, the child,… whoever they are in a moment so charming, of sweet tapestry A bewildering childhood, beguiling, the view on the doorstep of daydreams, with a small cup of tea A flight of the fancy, in ginger-ale eyes unfolds all the flowers, of 'let's pretend' rhymes I navigate hallways, and warm afternoons for I am the grandchild, and he is the moon The dance of the tea-cups, the fairyland shelves I've entered a time-warp in spite of myself The love of all love, is an old man who shares a small cup of tea, filled of vaporized air As light as a feather, the world in our arms sipping on tea in a world without harm ~ The Painting : "If Wrinkles Must Be Written On Our Brow Let Them Not Be Written" Painting By Morgan Weistling 5/6/16 Contest: Within A Gilded Frame Sponsor: Broken Wings