She was quite odd
Always spoke of spirits who visit at night
And her small frame told tall tales
The kind that went over his head

He was quite odd
He fantasized about Westbound trains
And his tired hands played the blues
The kind that wasn’t on her pallet

But together, they spoke
Of long roads and good music
Daydreams of sunshine
Of poetry and novels
The kind they never had the time to write.

Gypsy souls
Brought together under the light of two dark stars
Their timeless energy that illuminates the shaded corners of the smoke-filled stadium
And when they dance
They dance as one
No longer two separate entities
But a singular being.
Love.