The little gypsy children ran and ran and ran. Far away from where they came from, over fences and across fields. Never once stopping. The littlest of them trailed behind, her small feet tripping over each other, chest heaving. "I'm tired" her little voiced shouted. The gypsy children continued running, nimble like dancers on a stage. Her gypsy brother gripped her hand, turning back to look at her. His soft brown hair catching the rays of the setting sun, seeming almost transparent. His blue eyes bored into her willing her to keep moving, to not stop. The littlest gypsy girl begged quietly, the breath caught in her throat, "Please". Her flower dress flying, like a thousand butterflies in the air, marching behind their queen. The wind rushed pass their ears as the clouds watched from above and wondered. The little gypsy girl choked back tears as her hand slipped out of her brother's. "I cant go on." Her legs stopped their feverish dance as the flowers died under her feet. She watched her brothers and sisters run on and on and over the plains. Their hair trailing wildly behind them like the willows in the wind, hollow and light. She watched as they disappeared over the horizon. The winds whispering their footsteps through the grass. The little gypsy girl laid down on the green, her sore knees drawing close to her chest, her childish heart jumping as the sun shown orange over the earth. 

The little gypsy girl knew why they had left. She knew why they would never stop. They were gypsy children. 

And gypsy children would never stop running.