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Star – Crossed

His touch burned more than skin,

And it was a dangerous whim

For her to love a buckaroo man.

Yet, gypsy miles kept them apart and she never could claim his buckaroo heart.

Clearly, they were star crossed from the start.

But she still wished upon fallen stars

And he still rode off into the dark

Taking with him, her gypsy heart.

***

Hardened by the sage and sand

And caring not for her buckaroo man

She let stars fall and wished no more

As she reclaimed her gypsy heart and set it free to soar.

He never would hold her in his arms anymore

Because he still rode the midnight hour.

And those gypsy miles no longer mattered.

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Wild

It was a somber sound the wind carried through the bluestem and bermuda down into the Mexican desert still to wild to tame. It took with it my angry words stinging like icy rain, and it took me with it too.

***

I’m a wandering soul now like the wind that always blows. I have no one to hold my feet on the ground, and no one to care if I am found.

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My Heart isn’t Home

Some run to escape stress. Some drink to numb the pain. Some choose anger to deal. Some shy away. Some fall into a depressed and lonely state. Some draw. Some paint. Some dance the night away. I’ve tried all of those things, but in the end it was a cold day in March that finally eased the pain in my head and the ache in my heart. Amid the tangible breaths, the smell of horses was faintly mixed with the overpowering aroma of cold ground and winter rain. The sound of ropes swinging, sliding, tightening could be heard. The slick forked saddles, ranch ropes, bosalitas, and flat brim hats seemed so out of place in that Oklahoma town. I reminisced to the days of roping calves and covering miles of open ground surrounded by the Montana sage. My heart belongs to the northern plains, but for a moment I could feel at home on a cold Oklahoma day.

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Morning Blend

Coffee chases away the chills of the night as I sit wrapped in fleece, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes. There’s no sunrise to poeticize at this unjust hour only the light from the kitchen’s bare bulb illuminates the shadows where last nights demons still hide. It’s a morning blend of stale whiskey and lingering words better left unsaid.

photocred: creative commons

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Full of Life

She couldn’t forget the feel of the wind, the way it rushed past, whispering in her ears and tangling her hair. It took nothing with it when it went: it was free and empty, and yet so full of life.

Photo Credit: Creative Commons

Landscape

What I Need

I want his arms to wrap around me and hold me tight.

I need a strong man to stand right by my side.

I need a shoulder to lay my head on when the world ain’t quite right.

I need a man who will take the time to do things right; one that’s gonna love me long into the night.

I need someone who will encourage me to do my own thing, but he will still be there for me at the end of every day.

Mainly, I need a man who ain’t afraid to take on a challenge and try to love this wandering heart of a gypsy woman.

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Fish in the Sea

Like the dry spell in Summer there always comes a Fall rain,

and so love always finds its way back into a life that once was breaking from the pain.

It finds you in the most unsuspecting ways and surprises you by being completely different from anyone before.

It’s why you didn’t see it coming; you didn’t know its form.

Photocred: CreativeCommons