I have traveled afar

     To find my heritage.

          In search of those kings and queens

              Of tanned skin and dark roving eyes.

When I found a roving band,

      They lit their candles and lamps.

          Spinning tales that were old

              And rich in lore and fantasy.

I was born with the look of a traveling man;

     Traversing this land of meadows and mountains,

           Seashores and cities. And, I never

               Found gypsy kings or queens.

Just satin and lace,

      Their horses wild and cattle dogs nipping at the herds.

           Rolling on wagons decorated with colors and symbols,

               And their eyes looked through you, to the find a fellow traveling man.