I sometimes recall my gypsy days

When I was content in every way

the days I drank just rum and coke

the days when I was happy and mostly broke

wearing dreams like my flouncy skirt

and an attitude quite immune to hurt

though I drifted and wandered about

I stayed the same always no doubt

later I outgrew my gypsy garb

But I didnt do so because of any barb

I have realized what I love about me

Is that at heart a gypsy I'll always be

The gypsy in me shall never die! This is one quality I love about myself :-)