Gypsy Story 1 Poem by cheryl davis miller

Sometimes I look in the mirror
and I'm shocked at what I see.
I wonder who that Lady is
who is staring back at me.
She appears somewhat familiar
yet a stranger too she seems.
While sleeping soundly in the night
she sometimes invades my dreams.

I search inside of the mirror
in vain I'm trying to find,
the girl who once looked back at me
in a distant far off time.
That girl was never a Lady
no she was wild at heart.
Embracing each and ev'ry day
a new adventure to start.

Celebrating life while searching
for any excuse to dance.
Excepting change not as a foe
but a welcome new romance.
Sleeping out in the open air
watched over by the night stars.
Moving on to new greener fields
via rides in stranger's cars.

Today it may be Ohio
tomorrow it'sTennesee.
To pick up and go was nothing
to that Gypsy heart in me.
Where is that little Gypsy girl
who danced in the sun or rain.
How come the roots that she put down
feel so heavy, like a chain?

When did the roots begin to grow
overcoming her poor soul,
strangling her sweet Gypsy heart
and fighting for full control.
Roots are suppose to bring comfort
not troubling of the soul.
Roots are suppose to bring structure
not to take over control.

So if you've met with this problem
or an answer you can see,
share the solution here with her
so she can once more be free.
Free to wake up every day
and choose then to go or stay.
Free to let her wild Gypsy heart
once more carry her away.