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There’s a circus that comes to town,

Once every full moon,

In a different place every time,

Full of magic and mysticism,

Wonderment and the strange,

Carrying its cargo of the

Unusual and supernatural.

In the darkest corners are stalls,

tables , tucked away

In the alleyways of tents,

Sparkling lanterns, and lights,

That appear in drawing in night ,

Many coloured, many faced.

There is a covered

Fortune teller,

She isn’t always there,

You’ll find her when you need her,

If she lets you know the way

Down the winding paths

Of flowering lights,

Streamers and bunting

Sprouting like trees,

Hand-made undergrowth trips unwary travellers.

You’ll find her, if she lets you,

Not sure how you found your way,

Confused and lost, wondering how

You came into her place.

You’ll come as she beckons

Sit down at her desk,

Wait with baited breath,

Question halted in the throat.

She’ll smile as she reads your palm,

Plays with tea leaves, shuffles cards,

Before the deck is even laid down

Upon the table where it rests,

She frowns and pulls the first card,

Second, third, and yet again,

She looks you in the eyes and then

Tells of luck and fate and death..

You’ll leave when she lets you,

Find yourself back within the mess

Of makeshift corridors and alleys,

No idea from whence you came,

Stumble back to life the next day,

With a feeling that you know

A little too much of your future

Than you really ought to know.

Another of my Christmas present series of poems and stories, this is dedicated to my dear friend Jon Wright, who is a wonderfully talented artist and also performs in drag as a fortune teller in Birmingham .

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