Wednesdays are for poets

The Gypsy

A patchwork skirt whirls ‘round bare ankles; bold, flirtatious eyes lined with kohl. One shoulder slips from a yellow peasant blouse as bright-red lips purse— a perfect kiss. A red sash emphasizes her tiny waist. She turns. Her skirt spreads out displaying calves, knees, thighs. Looking my way, she winks, then glides down the street. I watch as…