GYPSY

GYPSY

Born to wander,

born to wonder,

born to seek out our destinies,

never alone with the road our friend.

The itch to keep moving,

is paramount,

Soul searching the moon,

whilst lost in the deepest forest.

The thought of stillness,

An invitation to a wake…

your have to try

or else you die.

Even in rapture the thought remains,

must move on along the road…

A hard lesson to learn,

no matter where you go,

you always find yourself.

We learnt well,

It took long enough,

33 years in the wilderness,

Constantly searching

for peace of mind.

Strange that it was always there,

Right where we started…

Shame that we had to go through the process,

to realise that love was in us…

And not somewhere else.

So how do I work this alone?

So used to us as a pronoun.

Do I need to hit the road again?

Or wait for the peace of mind,

only you can provide…

Dale M 2021

Published by dale.beck1@hotmail.com

I am a writer of words and a righter of wrongs. I aim to change the world, one person at a time.

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