Magic Beans

Enchanted magic beans, They were always enchanted to me. Worth their weight in gold, They never ever got old.   Some people would complain, Some would look at them with disdain, But magic beans meant the world to me, They brought me warmth and satiety.   When you were of little means, Your mind had to spark with creativity. You could not always expect the next best thing, Avoiding magic beans like a bee sting.   My mom would bring home our magic beans, She would then drop them into the swirling seas. She stirred them in a cauldron boiling hot, I then waited for my sustenance cooking in the pot.     Today I still gather magic beans, Even though I am no longer of little means. The happy memories come flooding back, As I pour magic beans from their overflowing sack.   January 16, 2015 Ed Belcher