Goddess of the Mist

Gypsy Blood

Is there such a thing as destiny

or do we but drift and die, haphazardly

Mother, father, sister, brother

friends and others, lovers


Finding out very recently

understandably; remarkably

that I may have some Gypsy blood in me


Or if that is not a “politically correct” thing to say

then come what may

Call me a nomad, vagabond – I’ll be what you say


You see my infatuation with Gypsy charms

Magic Tarot; destiny

A palm reading chart in a locket round my throat

Mystery


Heady days, running on auto pilot

twisted thoughts seeking devotion

a broken paddle pulling the weight of the ocean

while longingly I miss a homeland:


Of mountain and sea

an Italian grotto, complete with statuary

or a Greek brigade heading through the night

a glittering Gypsy caravan

filled with laughter and light!