That gypsy stayed near the mountain of more
which retreated the more she advanced
and so she knew well to go back again
to the constant burn of home fires.
But have they ceased in her absence to speak
of a camp of laughter and mirth
or do they burn low and dispirited
because of time’s ungodliness?
And what of the trees, grass, pebbles, stones,
that comforted, held and supported
her each and every endeavour
to reach that awesome mountain?
So she snips a bit from here and there,
bends low to retrieve memories,
and places them all in her rucksack of past
to not ever be lost and forgotten.
Though once there were three now only one
fire of her heart and soul
that fire will spark and revive again
into its true potential ~
and she will watch and wait patiently
until she knows she can safely leave
the land of human endeavour.
Burn little fire, burn bright and high,
to warm from afar that old gypsy’s heart!