Gypsy
“All I have are the embers of our fire...”
A Tambourine, and the evening is beckoning
through the distance
of time : a serpentine road / echoes
the colorful blouses and silks
the memory of indigo fire
casting lithe shadows outside the starry nights
fat with celebration
merely a breath from the walls
of this weathered tent...
You were a storyteller on my skin,
your lips like fireflies igniting the dark,
where only the cold unseen
had gone untouched
until the blaze of the daystar horizon
engulfs without consuming or burning us.
You were wildfire magic:
the emperor stag or wolf or stallion
and the world is one kingdom
with many heirs
and bright castles.
There is a fire for keeping warm,
and fires so hot to shape iron into swords,
you are both,
mine
And mindful of the wilderness.
Every camp we make
a home to hold the ember's glow.
Perhaps we stay and grow stronger roots,
claim the dirt and dig for its gold,
Replace old hat and dub it a crown?
Nothing lifts like
wind ‘yon embers…
But if love were not around,
life would have no fire
no warmth can be rendered.
If your love were not around...
(I surrender)
Love is not mistaken like Lust, dogs sniff each other's taint and sphincters. Love is rain when the world is thirsting to be quenched by her.