brief sunshinebefore the clouds roll in
purple clematis
© Rachel Green 2019
as a teenager
I visited a fortune teller
as you do, when you're alone
but hungry for love.
She read my palm
among the candles
and the scent of patchouli;
studied the lines and scars
criss-crossing my wrist
and with a piece of sting,
measured the length of my life.
Fifty Six years, she said,
which seemed a lifetime
when you're not yet twenty
but now I'm fifty six
trying to finish the draft
of my final book.
© Rachel Green 2019
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