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
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