The Gypsy In Me

The gypsy in me has come to his last port. He will not wander or roam as he did before. The gypsy in me is truly tired and weary My youthful adventures have vanished forevermore. Quiescently, relaxingly calming down It isn't the sea that made him so dreary His search never found some treasures as warm as home's life could always offer. A calling voice so mystic and eerie beckoned him to fleetingly return. He harkend to this alluring sound It wasn't the wind which blew him so distant Despite his endearing friends he deplored the criticism then to relinquish all scoffer. His passion for excursions kept him resistant to any other dream. His imagination was adorning his fantasy to capture each moment of bliss. Even if the world wasn't round and he fell into the abyss nothing could of hindered him to feel this very instant. Peering through his pirate's patch his periscope caught images of flying fish and dancing dolphins. He felt liberated from the doldrums of false hope commanding his personal worth, feeling completely sovereign. With his amusing parrot he landed on islands tasting exotic fruits and hanging with the natives. Exchanging sentiments with a joviality within his days were halcyon and rewarding at the very begin. Never remorseful over his challenges his reflecting brought a smile to his face without regretting. His inventiveness fascinated for his innovative nature was a magnet which all did understand. However awaiting were his silent pleasures and quietly his lust did otherwise burn keeping his hopes alive and solemnly believing the time had come for some tranquilizing leisure. A maiden he had held in embrace quite dearly haunted him hours on end so he sought her. He still remained constant and ultimately relieving his existential worries and inward brooding. So solitary and always alone he was conceiving and it came consistently into his final thoughts her solace was his final station and only choice. When he was in utter silence there was no way of forgetting her cooing and laughter with her enchanting voice. Thinking daily and exclusively concluding his arrival at his humble abode was clearly the reason his trips must duly adjourn. So the lighthouse on the shore did lead him homeward Over the waves and through the hurricanes a-storming this gypsy was heeding no Morse code or higher warnings. Nevertheless the sunshine came blazing with seraphim gazing pointing him to his destination guiding forwardly forth. Nothing could halt him from his wish to reach the friendly waters of his childhood memories. Pictures flashed through his reminiscence and as each mile was left behind him he was enthralled in utmost reverie. His compass was set to Polaris our positional star of the north. His resolute decisiveness accompanied his fateful journey for he sang inside himself this charming soothing melody. The gypsy in me has come to his last port. He will not wander or roam as he did before. The gypsy in me is truly tired and weary My youthful adventures have vanished forevermore.