Teapot

I have a teapot from many years ago From where I grew up, taken by the under toe That stole me, from the days that I had there Where I could be free and play everywhere I also have the baby spoon from the early days When later devilish wind took us separate ways The new times were bad, with fear day and night Gripping stuffed animals, holding onto them tight So, I think back to the beginning; where the teapot came from I pick memories like flowers and then hold onto some The teapot whistles stories that no-one ever heard I will keep on writing through it, with every single word From the bright start of morning, to the dark fallen night The words will travel on, beyond every new sight I was there to see the teapot then and here to see it now The painted flowered teapot and I, survived it all somehow Heidi Sands 9/25/17