A gypsy's lament

Back from the shores of love’s loneliness

that gypsy walked forward one step at a time

but laboured and slow like a stupefied toad

she got nowhere fast in that winter just past.

It is summer now and the sun heats the road

but that burning desire now missing and gone

brings nothing up from the deep down within

and she neither smiles nor sheds any tears.

On and on; the road seems so long

to one who can’t see around the next bend

but so busy trying she stumbles and falls

and lands flat on her face in disgrace.

It is a disgrace for she does surely know

whatever is waiting won’t meet her half way

or offer a sign, a symbol, or hint

at what lies beyond her fall from grace.

Finally then as she always does

she gains control of that wanting to know

and shrugs her shoulders, flicks her head,

and moves again to the next bend in the road.

Corners and bends, corners and bends!

What happened to all those clear roads ahead

that glistened and gleamed with the knowing of more

and brought forth joy into the world?