Laying in bed,
Thoughts keep on turning.

Her mind won't settle,
The storm will not calm.
Let the hurricanes rip out,
Each and every palm.

A gypsy, a nomad,
A pilgrim of the sun.
Tries to bring light to all,
Brought down by a gun.

Minds scattered,
The thoughts are no different.
"Who and where is he,
Why so indifferent!?"

So there she was,
Laying in bed.
Repeating the words,
That she should have said.

No, she would wallow in her yearning and self pity no longer,
So what if she might never find the young man she had given her heart to?
She was a woman of pride,and no damsel to be retrieved by some man.
She stood bracing the rails allowing the warm radiant rays from the condescending sun to fill the gaping hole in her soul

As though forged anew,
she turned to the vanity,as something caught her eye.