She’s the Gypsy Queen, looking for him in the crowd, dancing to her destiny
While you are dreaming of the moments to come, I write verses.
These lines I pen are from the heart, and when it starts I cannot stop.
Although my soul is a wandering nomad, my passion is that of a Gypsy Queen.
Many have tried but failed to dance alongside the mystical music I choose.
For none have the words that capture the rhythm of my hips so smooth.
As the music plays, my body moves in step of the tune that resounds.
From the crowd that rapidly clusters, these traveling across many towns.
This dance I stage is so enchanting, that both men and ladies wonder.
My movements are so sensual; mesmerizing the crowd is a blunder.
My arms move as a serpent’s tongue hypnotizing as my hips sinfully sway.
My long fingers I adorn with gold and a gem beckon carnal wild lust of men.
I look beyond the crowd and see far in a corner of the town square.
A man of such presence, skin darker than most, I try not to stare.
Yet this man is not one of the town’s many faces.
For his essence of patience, knowledge and hidden passion,
Is what lures my body to move off the stage.
The music continues then I seem to note this man’s eyes bring to me hope.
I sway parting my audience around as this man’s scent has me very aroused.
He does not move from the spot the rhythm leads my yearning to.
I am just a few steps away as he reaches out,
With both hands open, firm and trusting.
Welcoming my presence as I come near,
And softly whispers, “alas my Gypsy Queen you are here”.