Raking through containers for that

special recipe, I unearthed

these dusty condiments

and shook them off anew.

There was a skinny jar, all sparkly,

full of twisted, withered sticks.

It was once a posh exotic,

but now crumbles in the light.

A baby tub of yellow stuff

had lost the label, so

I've idea what it might do

or how its use would go.

The scary dark and spiky bits

and sporty coloured wraps

were wrinkly and without the juice

that made me want them once.

The ginger so essential

in a spice bag full of life

had become a wrinkled

stump of what it was.

I'll tell you what I really want,

what I really, really want

A new fragrance for my recipe

A zingy spice that bites.

Thank you very much

Thank you very very much

Though I slide you in the trash bin

I recall fine tastes and grin.