Tea Poem: Mom's Cup
Defining a remedy that was clearly the best
as the warm fluid coated our irritated throats
Mom's cup of hot lemon tea
sang a silent lullaby for a good night's rest.
This ritual could not be rushed
for the cup of hot lemon tea
would not permit that to be.
Cradled in her floral tapestry rocking chair
she savored the hot fluid in a fine, gold rim bone china teacup
often falling asleep engulfed in tranquility
like a butcher's scale
balancing the cup on her lap
never once spilling a single drop.
Touching her gently
not to abruptly startle her
I whispered, "Mom wake up."
Opening her eyes
smiling and resuming her metrical rocking
with a pacifying look
and a calm demure reply
she stated, "I wasn't asleep, only resting my eyes."
Picking up the same habit
whether my throat was irritated or not
slowly drifting to an enticing nap
tranquilized and unable to finish that nice hot brew
on my lap I balance a cup and saucer
hearing the whisper of a yet familiar voice saying
"Wake up before you burn yourself!"