Oooooh, Gypsy Woman
She wore bright, flowing clothes and wrought silver bangles; her hair was long and loosely held back by a silk scarf.
I entered her wagon fueled by curiosity only a 13 year old boy could feel. God, she was beautiful.
“Come in, young man. Let me hold your hand,”
I shivered as she touched me, her bracelets cold against my skin.
“What is it you seek, sir?”
“I, I,” my voice broke. “Dammit! Oh, sorry, Gypsy.”
“No matter, little man. Soon all will mature. Try again?”
“A, a kiss! That’s what I want.”
Best money I ever spent!
As VV winds down from a couple of very busy weeks, she has challenged us with the word WROUGHT. The above is my take on using the word. Where is yours?