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



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



And the Gypsy

She danced


She twirled

With those blue-eyes


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.




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 2018 D. Thurmond, aka, JEF. All rights reserved.

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