Black Shawl of Lace

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A fantasy visit to a Gypsy Camp. What could happen?

Submitted: April 30, 2016

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Submitted: April 30, 2016

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I was drawn to a drawing

On a tent, was a face,

A Blue-eyed Gypsy

In a Black Shawl of Lace.

And as I drew near

A voice called my name,

I entered the tent

To find one and the same.

 

She stood near the candlelight

Where her form was enhanced

Mandolins

Castanets

And the Gypsy

She danced

Barefoot

She twirled

With those blue-eyes

Haunting

The lines of her form

Did not lack for the wanting.

 

Bells and Castanets

Kept a musical pace

To the dance of the Gypsy

In a Black Shawl of Lace

And I shall never forget

The story she would share

Of a crystal-ball vision

And the child she would bare.

 

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The dull skies of November

Brought a Circus to town

I was curious and board

It was Gypsy’s I found

There were two rows of tents

About nine tents long

With space in between

For dancing and song.

 

There was Snake-oil salesmen

And belly-dancers

To entice

There were games of chance

And the rolling of Dice

But fate had its way

To put me in my place

With a Blue-eyed Gypsy

In a Black Shawl of Lace.

 

"The child's name will be Fate",

Said the Gypsy-witch mother,

"And she will look in the Crystal

When it's time for her lover."

 

And when night finds its end

She'll vanish without a trace,

Just like this Gypsy

In her Black Shawl of Lace.

 

JEF --- 01-15-2016

 


© Copyright 2017 D. Thurmond, aka, JEF. All rights reserved.

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