From A Painting Of A Spanish Gypsy Girl Poem by Lynn W. Petty

Her wind-combed hair surrounds her face
With tumultuous, unrestrained swirls
Of cascading molten midnight for its shade.
Her eyes, deep and dark,
Eternally veiling the window
Of my perceived image of her spiritual being.
Her slightly parted lips, pouting, full, passionately swollen,
Like velvet pillows of Spanish Gypsy Red,
Were meant for kiss not for speech.
The blending of her heritage merges
Imperceptibly, as dawn into daylight,
Of the Saracen on frothing mounts,
With scimitars held high;
Of Castilian pride as ancient as the Vasco-Celts.
A mystery, everlastingly impenetrable,
Forever shading the essence of her spirit.
Her countenance whispers a shadow of melancholy,
As if deep melodies wander through her soul.
She lives in a world to come, intangible
As a dream hidden in the depth
Of her ancestral decent.