Sky Gypsy
By J Ann Crowder
I touched her finger tips, & it rosie’d my lips as cheeks blushed a sparking, pinkish gin; sweetest sky gypsy. I touched her finger tips, my magic sky gypsy, as my soul strums heaven & my sky gypsy sung to my enlivening heart. Truths sprung deep now, as my sky gypsy sings deep colors of reds; rubies bright, pretty, & shining with new breath! My sky gypsy, my heart, deepened inside my soul. She was really me, my sky gypsy. She found me! We were always one, merely unseen within these tortuous clouds of debris.
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