Late that night she roamed the streets
With troubled heart and mind
Sounds so like owls and planes
She hums a hollow tune
Just before the Flight had come
To take the gypsy camp
They'd heard such sounds all around
Then he'd come to them
But to echo the sounds across the slums
One had to be assisted
One thing for sure, the Flight had friends
What else did they do to serve?
But what bothered her most was the possible pattern
Between the past and now
These sounds he made could just be a mark
A sign that it was him
Yet something itched behind her thoughts
An itch she couldn't scratch
She wandered home in the heavy dark
Something was very wrong.
Next Week: A Foolish Plan
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