Poetry and a Cup of Tea

Ooh-boy...ever have one of those mornings where your body not so gently reminds you that you are (ahem) not quite as young as you think you are? Welcome to my world! It was so lovely after work yesterday that I was inspired to quickly change clothes and hang out in my garden for a couple of hours, weeding, weeding, and more weeding. Darn crabgrass! Observations to self: no matter how pretty Russian sage looks, admire it in someone else's garden. Don't invite it home...it becomes a guest that totally outstays its welcome.

So I have a little puzzle for you to solve this morning. This poem by William Blake plus song lyrics by Billy Dean equals who I got to hang out with recently...any guesses?

The modest Rose puts forth a thorn,
The humble sheep a threat'ning horn:
While the Lily white shall in love delight,
Nor a thorn nor a threat stain her beauty bright.

I can remember when you fit in the palm of my hand
Felt so good in it, no bigger than a minute
How it amazes me, you're changing with every blink
Faster than a flower blooms they grow up all too soon

So let them be little 'cause they're only that way for a while
Give them hope, give them praise, give them love every day
Let them cry, let them giggle, let them sleep in the middle
Oh just let them be little

I've never felt so much in one little tender touch
I live for those kisses, prayers and your wishes
Now that you're teaching me things only a child can see
Every night while we're on our knees all I ask is please

Let them be little 'cause they're only that way for a while
Give them hope, give them praise, give them love every day
Let them cry, let them giggle, let them sleep in the middle
Oh just let them be little