Gypsy by birth, with a wildness inside,
she was crowned queen, by her birthright.
"By laws of the tribe," she didn't abide,
under moonlit skies, dancing at midnight.

There's a wild spark, inside her dark eyes.
Named after her mother, a free "Spirit,"
in the darkness of the night, a wolf cries--
by her dance, cheered by public-spirit.

A glow can be seen, by little fireflies,
as all standby and watch in enchantment.
A true gypsy queen with all that implies,
all in this night, filled with entertainment.

Flames by the fire, crackling wood sounds--
Men watch with glee, as her beauty astounds.

© Debbie Altiparmakis, All rights reserved.