Tuesday, December 25, 2012


               GYPSY CAMP

The fire rages strongly & the fire flickers low
Children gather into their mother's arms
Chased into safety by the night's coming cold
Cuddled in close, safe from all harm.
A man pulls out his treasured violin
A woman sways soft to his soul
The darkness settles expectantly
To hear the tale that's now being told.
Many years on the road turns into the same
And yet each breath is your first
Only a gypsy can say how it feels to be blessed
With what you have also been cursed.
     -- Shayla Kwiatkowski, 1987

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