The Gypsy

Walking through the wind
With the warm sand smoothing below her feet,
She’s gliding across the abandoned beach
Like a lost wanderer of the world
A gypsy running from society
Free and wild as a Black Beauty.

Viciously, she wipes the signs of weakness
Off her face and proceeds her stare-off
With the empty horizon laid out in front of her
Gazing back at her fierce black eyes
Partly hidden by the dark strands of hair
Blowing along with the salty breeze.

Her stride remains untamed and uninterrupted
Until her long sheer white torn-up skirt
Trailing behind her venturing through the sand
Gets caught among her tired feet
Which give in under the gypsy
That falls to the ground in despair.

At her first attempt to get up she falters
And there were no more attempts after that.

As she watches the last rays of sun die out
The soul of her eyes does too as her lids gently shut
And she falls into the profound darkness
That is so sound to several
And so similar to her own spirit
So unknown, unrevealed, and unfamiliar.

The day broke and as the gypsy awoke,
The sun rising and reviving her,
I awoke
Finding it difficult to get out of bed
And back into my actual world.

As I walked over to the mirror
The gypsy walked over to the ocean’s edge
Both of us expecting a familiar face,
A recognized reflection,
And there we were.