The Gypsy Life

Wow, I just realised how long it’s been since I’ve last posted something. Sorry. Here’s a little something I quickly wrote that I hope is worth your time reading. 🙂 It’s going to be a hell of a week. And it’s only Tuesday.

The Gypsy Life

When I was little, and little I read,

Of a wild young gypsy girl while in my warm bed.

Oh, how I wanted to live like that girl

Whose joys and pure laughs spun in a whirl.


How much I wanted the gypsy life,

Of vintage caravans and jigs of strife.

Of festive tambourines and dancing stars

And billowing skirts and sweets in jars.


Sometime later, I lost track of the girl,

Years passed by with the flourish of a twirl.

Yet one normal day, underneath my old bed,

I found a box with letters, many that said:


‘I am a gypsy girl, I am eleven,

I own a dancing bear whose name is Lemon.’

What a silly, silly little child I was!

But it won’t hurt to research-it doesn’t? It does.


As I look the gypsies up on the net,

None of the things came up that I’d bet,

Persecution, killing, slaving and fleeing,

It’d been better if my dreams had been left sleeping.


I’d been all wrong about the gypsy folk-

Or should I now be saying the Romani folk?

All dreams will inevitably come to an end,

They become tied, transparent, replaced by new trends.


But in my heart, I pretend I’m still wondering,

A grassy clear meadow with Lemon still blundering,

A wild young gypsy girl sitting down in the middle,

Singing a song to the stars.


About everburningcinders

So so...where to start? Well, for starters, I can say that I'm one of those kinds of people that don't care about their hair, or desperately need another pair of shoes. In fact, if you see me, you wouldn't notice me at all. I'm just the shadow, sticking to the walls, head buried in a book or eyes glazed over in a daydream. I want to be listened to and I want to be appreciated. My moral in life: Life is life. Believe in it and suck it up. I look forward to meetin' ya all!
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