She is a golden haired nympth,
a gypsy dancing;
Living in the wind,
spinning, twirling, softly laughing.
An olivine spirit, caught on the breeze,
evening Emerald eyes;
Heart a thundering hoof beat,
She is a whirlwind,
the earth tearing at her wrists and clothes,
Rain soaked skin,
round and round she goes.
Salt water rushing through her veins,
A lovely sprite, listless, made to roam;
A reveler in music filled days,
A sad heart with a hopeful soul.