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?