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.
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