With rings on their fingers
a sweet journey lingers,
gypsies set in silver
lie sleeping in powder.
Oracles while dreaming,
their ghosts still and streaming
out from their still powder,
the truth on their whispers.
Their quest set eternal,
in hours nocturnal.
Their feet set in motion,
from their starchy powder.
In consent to wander
the deep realms of yonder,
in the mouth of powder,
on the verge of nightmares.
They all travel beyond
where the desserts respond,
the middle of nowhere,
befriending their powder.
A contest entry
- Prompt For You #4 by Jeremy0826.
1900 points, ended November 22, 20 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
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