Traveling Gypsy With Rusted Wings Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

With rusted wings, she leaves through the valley.
Twisting and turning, she cannot find rest.
A social butterfly, no one sassy
She's been around the block; sometimes, behest-
To sojourn here and there, smile, mingle and kiss
But she's never mixed in any circles.
She wanted to stay; now her heart, like a skiff,
Wants to push away, float on the surface.
Drift alone her own way like a fog light.
Warning: Stay away now. She's not so young.
And, looks are fading; she's an appetite.
To balance her eternal yin and yang,
And put down permanent roots, settle down,
Sleep with one man, under one eiderdown.