Lora Colon (26 September 1944 / Missouri - United States)
Wrapped In Loneliness
I saw the gypsy in the park
When the carnival came to town;
'Your future for one dollar' she cried,
She wore my resistance down
After staring at my hand awhile
She said, with a worried sigh:
'You're a woman wrapped in loneliness,
Lonely 'til the day you die'
She looked at me with a kindly smile,
Mixed with pity and sorrow;
Did she think I took her seriously?
No one can predict tomorrow
I look at that same hand today,
The memories - how they sting!
A lonely hand that no one holds,
My finger, wearing no one's ring
It was a time of hope and dreams
When the gypsy read my palm;
How could she know, I ask myself,
Sitting alone in the evening's calm
Lips that kissed mine made promises
They did not intend to keep;
And eyes that looked at me lovingly
Sank to deeds that were dark and deep
What did the gypsy see that day
While looking at my hand?
Why didn't she tell me all my dreams
Would be built on shifting sand?
Was it fate, was it written in stone
What the fortune teller prophesied? ;
Over and over I hear her words:
'Lonely 'til the day you die'
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