Gipsy

I long for a drop
of your gypsy blood
that pursues you barefoot
through the will o'wisps.

You gave me your heart
wrapped in dreams,
a goblet brimming with frothy lies
and tye-died clouds
festooned with ribbons
and the purloined notes
of nightingales.

All these you gave me
You just never gave me
anything of yours.