Momma's teacup

When I was small
A child of three
My momma had a teacup
I’d best leave be
She said it was something
That really meant a lot
And full of things
For which she had fought
I looked and I stared
Wondering what
Could be in that little
That little teacup
So one day she pulled me
Up onto her knee
And said that she’d explain
Explain the cup to me
I looked up eager
I wanted to know
Just what was in there
That she’d worked for
So long ago
With tears in her eyes
And smile on her face
She lifted it down
From it’s honored place
I remembered it clearly
That day long ago
The cup it was pure
Like new fallen snow
Pink roses lay
Like the delicate kiss
Of sweet litle angel
Yes, was something like this
Wound round and round
On her little teacup
Was painted on ribbon
And lacy look
From the bottom on up
My heart beat faster
As I looked inside
But much to my dismay
A painted heart
Only that
Lay inside
The lovely container
Object of my desire
Lay empty
A red, garish heart
In rough old paint
Covered the bottom
Interrupting the white
I looked at her
With wondering, hurt eyes
And wondered why
She’d told me those lies
There was no treasure
No kingdoms key
Just the painted on heart
And a layer of dust
To see
She smiled down
And knew I didn’t
Understand the purpose
So her she told me
The story of the beautiful teacup
Once upon a time
A teacup was made
It was delicate and lovely
White of the purest shade
Delicatly carved
All up it’s sides
Was lace and roses
And flowers of all kinds
But the teacup was cold
And hard
No heart was inside
So the potter looked down
And thought
And he thought
It was made for royalty
But somehow did not
Have the feeling he’d hoped
The love he’d put in
But still it was cold
And lacked within
So he looked and he thought
Then he set it aside
For what was the purpose
Of a cup with no life
For years it sat
Covered in dust
‘Til one day
His daughter
Lifted it up
The girl looked ‘round
And picked up some paint
And the cup got a heart
That very day
She started and blinked
Then looked down
As she swore
The heart
Made a sound
Her jaw all agap
As she stared down
At the painted on heart
Living around
The snowy pure crystal
And angel kissed rose
The garish little heart
Swelled
Beat
Then froze
The lesson
In this
My sweet little one
Is no matter the beauty
The flowers
Or whats done
Without a heart
The cup
Was long gone
SO the daughter she took
The living teacup
And help it in her hand
Holding it up
And then
As she watched
The roses moved round
To the beat of the heart
The slow methodic sound
“Let love give life
And mothers give love.”
Were the words formed that day
And so the teacup
Gained life
That day
The daughter cried
Soft tears of joy
And placed her hand down below
To hold her growing little boy
She gave him love
And so gave him life
And later on
He got a wife
And here I am
Years down the road
With the living teacup
In our happy abode
So always remember
Little daughter of mine
Let love give life
And mothers give love.
Now that I’m grown
And out
On my own
The cup sits up high
In it’s honored space
And someday
When I have a little girl
I’ll take her aside
And show it to her
I’ll let her know
When she’s old enough
The love gives life
And mothers
Give love