At My Grandmother’s Table Poem by Jim Boggs

I am thankful for a cup of tea
and God, I told you so.
In my grandmothers house
with uncle Mac, I had tea
long ago.
In China cups with a tea pot
from occupied Japan,
a suger bowl and creamer,
silver spoons and jam.
Everything set perfectly
on a cloth crocheted,
linen napkins on a table
with Duncan Phyfe style legs.
As Mac recited Robert Burns
tears would slowly come.
I can’t remember the words
at all-
only the sadness of Scotland’s son.