One Poem by Shelly Blankman

 

Gypsy Moon

 

I look up and close my eyes

feel her  breath warm my face —

this gypsy moon.

 

She has seen me here before

and watched my tears.

Her whispers do not betray

my sadness.

 

She dances in the swirling mist,

spills jeweled drops

that tap on the water

like finger cymbals,

 

follows me for a while

then veiled by clouds,

disappears into

the cerulean night.

 

But I’ll be back

and so will she —

this gypsy moon.

Shelly Blankman is an empty nester who lives in Columbia, MD with her husband, foster dog and 3 rescue cats. They have two sons who live in New York and Texas. Shelly's career has spanned public relations and journalism, but her first love has always been poetry. She also enjoys designing greeting cards and making memory books. Her sons most recently surprised her with a book of her poetry, Pumpkinhead.