Gypsy
Smoky eyes,
Yellow hair;
Flowing skirts,
Knowing stare.
The desert at your back,
Mirrors before your face;
And then you’re gone
Without a trace
And I’m holding your shawl
And your words
While my heart
With the birds
Flies away,
If only briefly -
Sing to me,
Gypsy Stevie.
Written 4/19/08
© 2008 Nicole Nicholson. All Rights Reserved.
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