Wednesday, February 1, 2012

A gypsy rests

Beneath the shade of present times
a gypsy rests her weary mind
and sighs the sigh of womankind
that through the ages sallied forth
o’er the hills and dales.

She packs and ties her chattels down
the same as once before
and checks the path that lies ahead
for pitfalls of the past.

There they are, there and there,
and, my goodness, even there
but she smiles the smile of womankind
because that’s what gypsies do.

She’s going back, back, back again,
to times before the gypsy blood
rose fulsome, free, in her psyche
and set her mind to wandering.

A gypsy rests; it’s meant to be
the end of all that should  have been!

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