Gypsy

I called her Gypsy
and she said
I wasn't far wrong.
I smiled when she
looked through me
as though
she knew something
I could not.

she exhaled slowly
falling into my embrace
the way the cresting sun
climbs the horizon
nearly imperceptible
in its trek.

I tried saying something
anything to drain her sorrow
but she lay a finger
across my lips.

her hollow heart
yielded to me
and I understood
it was not important
who held her tonight.

she needed strong arms
and a soft place to fall
that's all.

to my surprise
we did not talk.
I just held her
wrapping her body
into mine
folding her soul
within my soul.

just before daylight
she gently pulled away
and sat upon the bed.
Sorry
she said
and I told her not to be.

a sad smile spread her face
as she gathered her things
and walked away.

I only knew her as Gypsy
and all she knows of me
are my arms.
yet I think I know her better
than others I have held.

sometimes the dawn rises angry.
sometimes the fear is raw.
sometimes the only truth
is a blood red sky
and a hammer fall.

I knew her as Gypsy.