Sometimes I think I have the soul of a gypsy. I imagine a tidy wagon with lanterns
and beaded curtains. A wee home that traveled at my whim. I think of mornings
that would hold no clue as to where I'd be at sunset.
In real life I am anchored by love and family. It is a sweet tether and I am grateful
for it. But dreams are good. They allow us to soar on gossamer wings and break the bonds
of time, to dwell in castles and gypsy wagons. Never deny yourself this small pleasure,
for sometimes dreams are the balm our hearts require and the inspiration of