Olden Days of Autumn

There’s a beauty that steeps on the inside
When teacups are tipped and sipped long
Table talks ‘til the break of dawn
As long as the teapot’s in song

The water that boils is endless
One cup tints another for you
Whistling old tunes that reach to the moon
At nights end we are drinking pure dew …

Olden autumn memories
Kelly Sampson Griswold

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