There once was an old lady,
She ran a village’s local tea shop,
And she would never frown,
Even when too tired to sleep.
Was it the woman who sold miracles?
Or was it just her tea?
And when she would smile,
My heart would skip some beats,
And I would sit there longer,
Pretending to sip my tea.
And the days could not be warmer,
Then she made me feel,
When she would walk by,
And bring with her a breeze.
I’ve had beverages before,
From villages quite afar,
But all of these places I saw,
Were often quite bleak.
The villagers often proclaimed,
’The tea is too sweet’.
I didn’t pay them attention,
I could see beyond that tea.
I had a rusty back,
I was angry more than not,
And I would denounce anyone,
And everyone who was not me.
So I asked her one day,
How could she be so content, so free,
To serve tea to travellers without a fee.
Of how she got famous,
As a lady who sold miracles by tea.
She smiled at me and said,
My patience, wisdom and humility were a trap,
To let me be content with what I had,
Until I aimed higher to strive beyond myself,
My gratitude gave way to generosity,
I received contentment,
Some healing powers too,
Lost and tired people,
Who couldn’t find shelter or food,
Stopped by at my inn,
I served them food and talked to them,
They found it aspiring and life-changing.
So tell me something, I said,
If you could read minds,
What would you suggest of me?
After a pause, she said,
’Accept the void’,
’All the things that you lack’,
’Skip the pretences to see your defects’.
’Then remember my words’,
’To stay alive it’s alright to put up a fight’,
’To be yourself, to give your best..’
’The heaven and hell both lie in you’,
’Choose love, compassion and favour’,
’Make a cup of tea, to one who needs care’.
And when asked of me,
What has made you smile,
I cannot help but notice,
Maybe it’s just her tea.