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Poem

TIME IN A TEAPOT
Remembering the mornings of sipping tip with my mother, who has long since passed...

gentle morning breeze stirs the air
whispers of steam rise in the morning hush

teapot's whistle pierces the air
teapot’s awakening call
teapot’s spout forms a gentle stream
teapot's warmth begins to flow
teapot’s charm, a magic spell

rising from teapot’s fragrant leaves
scent of tea fills the air
stories are told, and memories unfold
echoes murmur from the past
hours slip by like grains of sand
love and laughter, tears and woe
settle in the teapot’s belly

time dwells in the unassuming teapot’s heart
teapot’s secrets locked within its core

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