It Does Not Matter

On a thin white china plate I have a piece of freshly baked French bun with cherry filling.
I like it on a chilly day with a cup of hot tea.

I thought it would be sweeter if I could share it with my mom, only to learn that she does not like it.

First I was a bit touched that my mom disliked it, and then I wanted to convince her that it was yummy, but in a minute I realized that it is ok. She does not have to.

I do not have to push her to enjoy, cause we enjoy things when we freely do so.
And I can enjoy the French buns with my both hands.
And my mom likes a piece of sugar with a cup of tea.
Such we are! As long as the tea time flows into a heart time.