This is a poem I wrote for school last year.

Can you guess whose perspective this is from?

The gypsy's tale

The young gypsy girl hid in the church

As the people of Paris search

She and her sisters sit like stone

While the cathedral ghosts moan

I shone on her chocolate from

They never knew the norm

Thought to be witches and evil to the bone

And here they live all alone

Purple sashes in tatters and torn

With leather shoes well worn

White pheasant shirts

And black full skirts

Not yet ten

With the name of Cheyenne

Her sisters Masago and Rhiana

Keep all of their belongings in a bandanna

By banging and bonging they broke down the door

Searching for them once more

The girls fled as fast as a crow out a window

Hoping not to suffer a blow

My glow followed them as they flew through the field

Each took out the daggers they wield

The weapons were glowing stars in my sky

Each day their tale horrifies

They were found in an ally

Though to them it felt like Death Valley

Brought to the square

They were killed there

Tied to a wooden stake

By people wanting them to bake

The fire was lit

All because they didn't fit