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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Romance/Love · #1039828
I believe that the Gypsy lives in all women, in one way or another.

Colors, vivid
turquoise, orange,
wild orchid,
black and white.


My wanton gypsy self,
in love with life's echo in her ears.
The ocean at high tide,
mockingbirds making fun
dance music, children laughing
puppies growling, kittens mewling.
The sweet tastes of living,
honey from the highest bee's nest,
the bitter musk, salty taste of
ambrosial glistening skin.

What my gypsy really craves is
a man we love deep inside us,
he makes my gypsy self whole again.
Without this sensual completion,
I'm caressed by only darkness
in the colorless void.

My gypsy lights up
her wanton woman self
when a lovely, caring man
wants her too in loving ways.

She wants him in

black and white,
wild orchid,
orange,
turquoise,
vivid colors
throughout her Gypsy night.

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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1039828-Gypsy-Night