(but thanks to the ConArtists, they’re on their way home. This is the twenty minute exercise from today.)
I predict nothing.
I know that any prediction I may propose will be
gazumped by the she-devil snigger of Lady Luck.
I’ll put one foot forward, head held high, a determined stride,
Decided by long thought pros and cons, my self-deceit of self-control.
There’s that ringing in my ear, that delicate thought from him to me,
My mind in his, his heart in mine, one thought meeting in unworldly synchronicity –
An imagined kiss that flutters alive a childlike wish
that magic is not smothered by my grown-up sense of the ridiculous.
I predict that my life will dip and roll from irony to fate,
A coin flipped by sweet Kismet’s slight of hand,
Fortune delivered before it hits the ground –
Heads or tails tricked by the spin, defying mortal plans.
I predict it all.
If anyone would like to join us at the next ConArtists meet then please comment or email me. It’s a wonderful, lively group, with occasional cookies!