The Gypsy
A twirl of a skirt as red as blood,
To match the colour of her taloned nails.
A dangerous woman, this dark haired beauty -
In her presence every man pales.
She lives a hard, wretched life,
Always moving without rest.
Her work is looked upon with scorn,
But always stands the test.
Her tarot cards and charms guide misled dreamers -
The seven of swords, a dangerous foe.
The Hermit, a mysterious card,
Is drawn, it's meaning she alone does know.
With jingling bells and coins
She sweeps through every scene.
Her music announces her on her way,
Her perfume lingers where she has been.
Her beauty, unrivalled on God's green Earth,
Makes grown men shake with lust -
She is strong, mysterious and wise.
She will last when all else turns to dust.
Copyright © Catriona Elizabeth Mowat 2006
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