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***( Inspired from a story I heard of a bitter Greek military officer torn between

        love and duty; he would not run away with her, 

        so she ran away from him....)




The last dance tonite....

   waltzing with me,

   this gypsy woman with wild eyes

   and a devilish smile;

She would not let me go....

   nor the kiss of her wines,

   her touch teased....

   and lingered,

Yet she danced and tore away,

   where the moon had spun her allure,

   and candles were blazing

   wild with sweet-west winds,

On a night-boat then we sat,

   and floated to some bright shore;

   her eyes many moons of love,

   her hair flowed with a velvet mood....

But a heart wan with thorn and accusation,

   and dance no more she would,

   though with bedroom gaze 

   she touched as Venus;

   a silk gown to beckon ----

   on stardust we could climb

   some celestial stairway,

   make love for the ages....

   forsake the sword in its bloodied sheath,

Though the gods would grumble ----

   the universe would wed us long before war,

   'ere Venus could whisper its name.....

Yet it is but a dream;

    for men must make heroes of devils,

    and kings must rule, and accuse

   (and gypsies must trick old fools....)

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