As a fair-haired, toddling child small,
With whimpering voice to Mama I'd call,
And she would place me on apron'd knee,
And share with me her warm sweet tea.
And oft through those childhood years came times,
That chills would grab, and fevers climb.
She'd put me to bed as quick as could be,
And Mama would bring me warm sweet tea.
And there were times that I'd pretend,
So that the day with her I'd spend.
I'd moan, "Oh I'm as sick as I can be",
Though not convinced, she'd fetch the tea.
When I was grown with babes on the way,
enduring nausea every day,
She'd ring me up, concerned you see,
and advising, "drink warm sweet tea".
And, I recall when my head would ache,
Mama would say, "you need a break",
And she'd say with parental authority,
"Go fix yourself a cup of tea".
Just think how lovely would be this world,
If all the leaders under flags unfurled,
Would extend their hand to their enemy,
And offer up some warm sweet tea.
Today up in Heaven, I know,
Where streets do shine and mansions glow,
There's a dear sweet saint who's waiting for me,
And in her hand is a cup of tea.
bllandis
(Printed with permission of the author.)
(Click on the highlighted letters above to take you to her blog.)