Gungo Blossom

Bright gold folded in dark crimson A flag of flower furled on a tree Harbinger of delight and the season Legume stirring apppetite in me I yearn but cannot taste again, these Years like rivers have carried all The fond treasures of youth into ease Fallen like frail eggs from a wall Gungo, no more from mother's pot No more from sister's hand piped hot No more this Christmas find's the slot That separates kind child and idiot. Burnished gold and crimson veined Stirs the heart where memory stained.