The Gypsy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
A mysterious encounter with the elusive spirit of the inner masculine

Submitted: June 11, 2017

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Submitted: June 11, 2017

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A keening wind blows through my bones

A wind that no one feels

Crying, begging, calling me

Across the winter fields.

There’s a song playing in my ears,

A song that no one hears,

The haunting notes they tear my heart

And still my mind with fear.

There’s a gypsy man who follows me,

A man that no one sees,

I feel him wandering in my soul

Where no one else has been.

It’s the Gypsy man that plays the song

That carries on the wind,

He drugs me with his witching words

And draws me on behind.

I danced with him one lonely night

The ghost wind in my hair,

The music loud within my heart

Enchantment there was there.

He cast strange visions at my feet

Held heaven in his arms,

And drowned me deep inside of him

With spells and magic charms.

The sky bound diamonds round my wrists

Hung emeralds in my ears,

And all I could see was the Gypsy Man

As he brushed away my tears.

The devils left, I woke alone,

The music gone from me,

And the stillness of the coming dawn

Hung heavy on the trees.

I walked away from that strange place

With weary dragging tread,

And the wildness of the Gypsies song

Still flooding through my head.

But I still can feel the keening wind,

Hear faint beguiling tunes

And see the sky dark eyes of the Gypsy Man

Who vanished with the Moon.


© Copyright 2017 Emma Warburg. All rights reserved.

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