My Little Teapot.
I have a little teapot, Tigger is her name,
Every cup I draw from her, always pours the same,
I warm the pot, and brew the the tea, the way that I've been shown,
A little tea, and water hot, but not the taste to drown.
Old fashioned still, I know I am, to make my tea this way,
Tradition, yes, I know it is, a ritual made each day,
I like the way, that things where done, many centuries past,
And I am one, today at least, who holds nostalgia fast.
My little teapot, small and round, is thirty years I'd say,
I've made my tea-tray, in this way, right up until today,
This ritual for me I find, sooths my troubled mind,
But helps me think good thoughts again, and leave my cares behind.
Washing this and dusting that, the constant need to clean my flat,
Sahara's wind, her desserts flat, this awful dust from her begat,
From the time when I awake, I think the cleaning I must make,
When a last I partake, of tea fresh made, a welcome brake.
With kettle on I start my day, and things laid out to make,
With tea in pot, and toast fresh made, my breakfast I will take,
At eleven fifteen, I'll give my pot, a break from making tea,
And when I've washed the pots from morn', I'll make myself cafe.
Lunch at one's, not lunch at all, unless my Tigger's there,
Without my trusty pot of tea, my taste buds would despair,
A tea-belly, I know, I have oft' been called, and so I'm sure have you,
But those who call us silly names, like us, they love tea too.
Afternoon, a friend may call, and to the stove you'll see,
I'm off to get the cups and things, and make a pot of tea,
With buttered toast, and jam atop, and cake brought by my friend,
We'll drink our tea and chit our chat, the half day through to spend.
Early evening meal is made, accompanied by my pot,
She's always welcome at a meal, there's not a meal when not,
And later on, I'll letters write, to friends of yesterday,
Close friend, my faithful teapot, is but a lean away.
At last the day is ended, and in my bed I lay,
I've read my book, and said my prayers, and reflected on my day,
Sitting quietly by my bed, one last duty, yet to do,
My faithful little teapot, waits ready with my brew.
Written and composed by Wizard (L4U 2005) inspired by my lovely little teapot.
My little Tea Pot (poem) revisited.
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Afternoon, a friend may call, and to the stove you'll see,Maggy wrote:Don't forget ME:lol:
I'm off to get the cups and things, and make a pot of tea,
With buttered toast, and jam atop, and cake brought by my friend,
We'll drink our tea and chit our chat, the half day through to spend.
I think only you and I know Maggy that the friend in the poem who brought the cake was you.
WIZARD
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