Tornado Magic/Part of 'Friends' Series/no. 2

Tornado Magic

Engulfed in a shroud,

In a vortex twisted,

Of a gypsy’s magic-

When vanishing,

Beneath dark, spinning,

Shroud of black.

The shroud now,

Masks an empty patch,

Of nothingness.

Swirls, and excitement.

Crowds that ‘oooh,’ and ‘aaah.’

Where did she go?

Everyone’s lips,

Voice the query.

Tornadoes may come,

And go quickly.

Powerful wolves,

Roaming,

Drawing nigh to a pack of foxes.

One, two, three kids,

And a singing husband,

Who played on strings,

In the light of fire-

Night.

My eyes were fashioned,

To him while,

These beasts howled in

My ears.

Together we made,

The songs overcome,

The wild.

Wild wolves,

And childbirth,

Children, oh, my

Children. Loves-

Yet, threats to solitude.

We became,

Him and I,

Tornados.

To ward off struggling,

While wolves tracked foxes around us,

We kept twin hearts,

Of same, but overcame.

A rise of power,

And gypsy magic,

Became ours.

The power of a string harmony,

Keeps me in smiles,

And listening to a sweet guitar,

Head on his lap.

As the crowd looks on,

They see beauty,

Reveling power,

Whirring, bright colors,

And a guitar.

I sweep education,

And moving trucks,

My children’s needs,

As a tornado.

People are indeed mesmerized,

By my constant ability to

Disappear.

Yet through it all,

I have maintained,

An inner sun,

The sun of a gypsy’s fair

Colors.

A soft whisper in the night,

Of that time past,

I know that . . .

I’m an act,

That’s not seen often.

My audience,

Knows power and content that-

amazes.

The act is mine to relish forever.





Dedicated to my cousin, whose name shall remain anonymous at this point.