Romancy
I saw them
And their freedom was the mother
Of my ideal, my desire.
I could be a wanderer,
If they would let me go.
I would hear the gay ballads,
Follow the gypsy band
Be wild, tumultuous, tempestuous.
My tangled hair would brush my bare shoulders,
And, walking barefoot into town,
I would laugh at the women who stare
And whisper to their children, pointing.
Susan J. Skinner
copyright 2011/all rights reserved
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