Fortune-Telling in a Kitchen
Starting with  
The dark handsome stranger
I feel my way  
towards a forthcoming holiday
sand between toes and
cocktails at dusk.
Moving on, I approach
The topic of rampant desire
for a forbidden love.
Before the tears spill
I steer the topic
to a wedding
happening within the year
and probably in June.
Like spent smoke from unhealthy coals.
Unreciprocated love dissipates.
Replaced by  
Spangled galaxies promising glee
and eternal bliss.
Looking downwards
I summon more secrets
dwelling deep  
within my
crystal ball.

Andrea Bowd

If you have any thoughts on this poem, Andrea Bowd   
would be pleased to hear them.