My gypsy woman

My gypsy woman

where have you gone tonight?

Have you flown to a crescent moon

cradled in the arms a wandering minstrel

strumming his guitar to the melody of your voice?

Or have you passed through a village

where the wailing sound of a tango waltz

fills the air and soon surrounds

your body in the darkness of a dance away lover?

Perhaps you wandered through a gallery

gazing absentmindedly at abstract colors and forms

only to be taken by a sculptor

and cast into an alabaster Venus de Milo.

When a plaintiff voice calls you into a candlelit room

with Christmas lights dancing on the ceiling

reading poetry to you and to you alone,

you begin an affair of words.

Find your way home by moonlit paths

take off your ribbons and bows

lie near my sack of poems

swallow the words and let them color your dreams

Richard Bibeau /14