I knew this day
Would one day
Come upon me.

All alone
In the cold
Gentle Breeze.

The soft wind
Combs through
My Auburn hair.

I shiver in solitude,
Believing it my
Entire existence.

But what should I
A maiden solely be
Assured by my volition?

Why should I care?
I walk alone with
A gentle creed.

“Me, myself, and I,”
I say to thine own self,
Fueled not by a belief in love.

For men turned into frogs
With every kiss, with
Skin upon skin.

God save me now!
Dare me to soar
With air from a lover’s lungs!

For no one believes
Or cares if I am
Both saint and sinner.

A queen and beggar.
A lady and gypsy.
All of heaven and hell.

Until love sought me out,
On a vibrant day,
Blessed by stars.

In the naked sun,
Gentle, kind, a man
Most consider a frog.

Some say he is not,
As holy and pure
A teacher like Rasputin.

Some say he is lustful,
Hungry for power and drink,
Simply another Rasputin.

“You’re a woman,
Pure and sweet,”
He whispers.

It is what I want,
All I wanted,
From a savior.

Is to call me a
Woman, not his
Prized trophy.

To remind me
Who I am, in all
My gypsy soul.