No longer free that gypsy now
reclines beneath a willow tree
wondering as gypsies do
what next is meant to be.
But time has stolen youth and more
and left the soul to wither, die
without the firm implant of love
that keeps rapture alive.
So the gypsy looks around/about
and can see where blessings hide
waiting, waiting, waiting,
for the opening of mind.
And the time is right when gypsies know
what’s here is meant to stay
and she will clear away the brush
and chase the clouds away.
Then sky will be the clearest blue
the trees won’t bend and dip
and all beneath their canopies
will maintain their earthly grip.
Beneath the trees or not,
tall, straight, upright, or not
blessings come from anywhere
and joy found everywhere
if we but stop, listen, feel,
and open mind to see!