Old Grandfather of the Teas
You have told me the story many times before,
old grandfather
of the teas;
but I will listen again
as you carefully pour
the hot green fragrance
And slowly tell me of the morning long ago,
old grandfather
of the teas,
when your last daughter
was born and died
as the heavens
Over Nagasaki disappeared and ashes rained
On your home and your wife and your baby,
old grandfather
of the teas.
Copyright © W. Blaine Wheeler | Year Posted 2020
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