Gypsy Rose

Sometimes, there is a poem. That tells a story.... in a song

Highway Rose

I an I... I know how to feel

and... I an I, know... when it's real

when the rain, comes down

an ya hear, that highway sound

echo back the surround. I'm leavin town

Gypsy wheels, don't touch the ground

Angel wings, kiss... the outward bound

whispers, written into the sky...

on wing tipped, sighs.

Lay lazy clouds.

Where you were,

Was. Where, you were found

an had it all, made the shade

walking up, into that Miracle Mile.

Waking up, some kind'a accolade...

into, the by and bys, reply. Gotta go.

What can I say

Those Gypsy wheels. Roll, round, an round

Screaming mindlessly, through thundering rain

wondering the Prairie life, an settle down again

Angel wings, kiss... the outward bound

whispers, written into the sky.

Promises on wing tipped, sighs.

Tell yourself, no lies...

An hey... out there. Be your own, best friend

No, these gypsy wings. Haven't gone to ground

forever lost, and found again. Down that road, they say

kick start'Er an do it all, where ever... it feels

like shiftin gears, through those passing years

it, needs be. Life. In the rear-view mirror...

Angel wings... can never. Touch, the ground

She was a Highway Rose, an I suppose

your children know, where your garden grows

where winter misery sows, in those midnight snows

Seasons to seasons, come around... again, an again.

Hey... hey, Lady an Hey ~~~~ wait, on the day day...

we be out there, on that road again...

In that Gypsy, wind.

An Hey. Lady!~~~~~~ How's your day

~ I'll see ya, Gypsy Rose ~

in the some-where's.

I suppose...