Dancing Gypsies of the Mists
Sisters of nature, gathered hand an hand,
Finger tip to finger tip, as the goblets
Are filled high, and thus passed
Amongst one another.
Nymphs of the evergreen wild, celebrating
The springs rebirth, listen to the drumming beat,
Of seasonal change, it plays in perfect harmony,
With the earth's eternal motion.
Graceful steps of eloquence, lightly placed
To the rhythmic under tones, a seductive
Enchanted spell, weaved with gestures
Exotic mischief, by promises unspoken
Implied meaning.
Teasing virgins of sacred beauty's
Renowned, unveiling each temptation
Hidden desire, yet it is nay unconquerable.
For these maiden's are the gypsies of
The mists, the untouchable, protected
By the Gods themselves.
Muses for inspiration, delicate spirits
Of pure joy, never knowing the heart
Aches of the mortal soul, regrets shadow
Lies beyond their realm, of this dance.
Forbidden fruits of a lustful harvest,
These the loveliest of pleasures maidens,
In a Grecian garden.
On the white topped peaks of the Gods,
A blessings bouquet is lain to feast, in
Honor such a magnificent vision to behold.
From above the deities toss golden bands,
To adorn these ladies wrists, and ankles,
A fitting tributes treasure to bestow, for
Such grace and elegance.
Hear the rustling winds blowing,
The echoing voices chanting,
Than feel do you not the silences
Stillness.
They've gone again, into the thinness,
Of air from which they came, these ancient
Spiritual phantoms of the past.
Until the seasons call unto them once more,
Come it is time to dance, gypsies of the mists.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © Cherl Dunn | Year Posted 2014
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