A little story from Mother to daughter |
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 |