chien Stonebirdhead

I tried my future to see


I tried my future to see

in the bottom of my tea,

the dregs and leaves left below

would tell me which way to go.

 

I swirled the brew three times about

and the liquid tea I threw out,

then peered into the brown-stained cup

that recently had been filled up

 

What vision appeared before my eyes

from a fortune teller that never lies?

Just a little bag, but what does it say

– “here is the finest Earl grey”

 

Great joy did fill my heart

at last the reward for all my art!

I’ll be annobled like an ancient lord,

Give me my helmet, wench and sword

 

Put the wench on the left arm, sword on right

(or if the sword is left, hold the wench real tight).

Grandly lording over commoner and peasant

is good for the ego and rather pleasant

 

But what do I see, - a piece of string?

(Of this will come no good thing)

A winding road, brown and soggy 

leads into the future, long and foggy

 

Climbing up the white cliffs of china

of my mug, as I have nothing finer,

it reaches the lip, edge of the unknown,

leaps over the crack and starts down

 

But for all descents there is an end,

Can this paper square be my friend?

Or will ”Sir thomas Lipton’s net weight”

be the one to seal my fate?

 

Not this time, as with heroic haste

I throw it into a bin for waste

then put the mug back in it’s place,

– so the future can leave no trace

 

(The next cup of tea – I’ll drink

rather than throw it in the sink)