A Gypsy without a caravan is often like
A violinist without a bow
Mine has now become a
Mossy, storage shed on wheels
Yet the tires are pumped and road-ready
It makes me feel safe
How I envy turtles
Imitate them with my backpacks
But humans need facilities
We need reasonable comfort
Safety, most of all
I no longer like to drive
So my caravan sits
Plunk, plunk the strings
It needs a bow
To create the music of movement
Escape to another realm
Not happening now
But it will, I vow…
© 2015 ViataMaja, Poezija
poeturja 