Saturday, January 16, 2016

Now ...

She wishes the moving would lead somewhere
but it doesn’t, not ever, no, not ere
but she trundles along like gypsies do
to simply end up where she’s been before.

Now this gypsy not clever to count the cost
of having to do everything twice
but bound as she is by some strange decree
she surrenders up unto her plight.

Now her wagon must hold more than before
because baggage mounts up each passing year
but her wagon grown old can’t cope with the load
and so she must enter “select memory” mode.

Now she shifts and sorts; what not to keep
to enable the love to remain undisturbed
and caught in this stage she’s a gypsy in red
as if the discarding has bled on her dress.

Now gypsies would choose to follow the river
but a drought has o’er laid the land
so off she goes in her red dress
knowing that soon the river will flow. 

And then she’ll dive in dressed as she is
and wash off the stain of unhappiness
and appear like a woman born anew
into a world not known before.

And in that world she won’t do again
what she has done before
and yet there are tears threatening to fall
for the one thing she didn’t repeat.

Now that gypsy knows well that now’s not then
and nothing will be the same again
so dance with her please under the stars
and tell her she’s lovely when free of the past!

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