Reading the Future

The lass came to consult in the darkening gloaming, Shyly she knocked on the frosted window Of the gypsy’s cabin. She was sick with trepidation, As she was ushered into the musty decrepit room. The crystal globe on the table seemed opaque. Unpredictable how things came fearsomely to a head. The globe cleared momentarily and became luminous. This was followed by intimidating hums and aha, As if all has been quickly but ominously revealed. The gypsy fortune teller’s voice was full of pathos, “I see a young valiant man guiding you into a shop. Armed men entered to steal what they could. Someone fired a shot. The young man protected her. He died on the spot.” All this she saw in the globe. The young lass vowed she’d never enter any shop, But the gypsy assured her that she would do so. The future cannot in any way be changed. It was immutable. The lass left; sure, she would be melancholy forevermore. The gypsy gathered her ill-gotten money and wondered How the young ones, so ready with money, were so gullible.