4 o'clock Saturdays,
Grandma and I would sit,
on the red satin-covered seats
at the white lace-covered table
that I could barely see over.
The soft ping of china hitting china
the sweet taste of tea she brewed
the silent sipping of the cool, refreshing liquid
on a hot summer day
the way her face would crinkle when she smiled
as we chatted about the day's events.
I shall never forget the times we had together,
Grandma and I, at our Saturday tea times.
© Author Unknown