Sun and Poinsettias
a poem of memory and hope
I remember the sun when I was small,
The white door, birch trees, grass and all,
Poinsettias just outside my wall.
I remember the bright poinsettias’ red.
If there is aught can make amends
For the loss of half a life, God send
The sun I remember till my days end,
The sun on the bright poinsettias’ red.