Tea Corner

I imagine you in fireside chair,
The favored one with cushioned seat
And see you watching embers flare
While warming your poor aching feet.

The teapot cracked on table stands,
Sliced loaf on wooden board for bread,
On checkered vinyl rest more crumbs,
For birds they’re saved, who must be fed.

A ceiling bulb lights up the room,
That rarely sees the bright of day.
Electric trains block out the sun
To leave net curtains dingy grey.

‘Twas you who taught me how to spell
And Tennyson you would recite,
Both have served me very well,
Bestowed on me a gift to write.

I think of you quite often now,
A wish that we could sit and share,
And ask you, who in your young life
Wove words of magic through your hair.