Rose Falcone (September 8,1959 / Brooklyn, New York)

The rhythm pulsates as she dances through the night
While the castanets chatter and the fires burn bright
The night sky's beauty cannot even compare
To the silk of her skirts and the flow of her hair

The dancing's a frenzy, sheer madness, delight
The drumbeat is deafening, swirling colors a sight
As the smoke rises, twists and disperses
Her movement writhes, twirls and reverses

With fists clenched tightly and fire in her cheeks
It's the truth in the dance, the Romani she seeks
In men there's no trust, only lust, lies and demise
The dance will not fail her nor the drumbeat's reprise