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The Black Shawl of Lace

I was drawn to a drawing
On a tent
Was a face
A Blue-eyed Gypsy
In a Black Shawl of Lace
And as I drew near
A voice called my name
I entered the tent
To find one and the same.
 
She stood near the candlelight
Where her form was enhanced
Mandolins
Castanets
And the Gypsy
She danced
Barefoot
She twirled
With those blue-eyes
Haunting
The lines of her form
Did not lack for the wanting.
 
Bells and Castanets
Kept a musical pace
To the dance of the Gypsy
In a Black Shawl of Lace
And I shall never forget
The story she would share
Of a crystal-ball vision
And the child she would bare.
 
—————————————————-
 
The dull skies of November
Brought a Circus to town
I was curious and board
It was Gypsy’s I found
There were two rows of tents
About ten tents long
With space in between
For dancing and song.
 
There was Snake-oil salesmen
And belly-dancers
To entice
There were games of chance
And the rolling of Dice
But fate had it’s way
To put me in my place
With a Blue-eyed Gypsy
In a Black Shawl of Lace.
 
“The child’s name will be Fate”,
Said Gypsy-witch mother,
“And she will look in the Crystal
When it’s time for her lover.”
 
And when that night finds it’s end
She’ll vanish without a trace
Just a Blue-eyed Gypsy
In a Black Shawl of Lace.
 
D. Thurmond / JEF—- 01-15-2016

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