the dreamers ~ by theodosia garrison
The gypsies passed her little gate-
She stopped her wheel to see-
A brown-faced pair who walked the road,
Free as the wind is free;
And suddenly her tiny room
A prison seemed to be.
Her shining plates against the walls,
Her sunlit, sanded floor,
The brass-bound wedding chest that held
Her linen’s snowy store,
The very wheel whose humming died,-
Seemed only chains she bore.
She watched the foot-free gypsies pass;
She never knew or guessed
The wistful dream that drew them close
The longing in each breast
Some day to know a home like hers,
Wherein their hearts mights rest.
Ah, this so perfectly describes the longing each of us have, especially if we do not rest in Christ. We all long for freedom, for rest, and to belong. I am both the gypsy and the woman spinning in her room. Lovely poem.
My cousin Ruth directed me back to chindeep. So glad I came.
Thanks so much for the comment Kathy. I can relate with both women in the poem as well. That’s why it spoke to me so deeply. I’m glad you visited my little corner of the internet. XO
i loved reading that poem. and the picture of the tree that caught my eye to begin with was beautiful as well.
glad you enjoyed the poem. I love the imagery. the tree is our oak in the back yard.