Zoltar's Line
She stood on tiptoes just to see his face,
the fortune teller in his glowing case;
Zoltar, with eyes that sparked in the carnival light,
looked real enough to guide her through her fright.
Adults and children waited in a line
for silly fortunes, jokes, or some small sign;
but she believed, her heart too young to doubt,
that Zoltar knew what life was all about.
Her scarf was bright, her smile a fragile beam,
a little warrior living in between
the fear of what tomorrow might reveal
and wishing for a future she could feel.
She dropped her coin; his lantern flickered gold,
his painted hands rose just the way she’d been told.
The crowd fell quiet, softened by her stare,
a hush that wasn’t common anywhere.
He spoke her fortune, gentle, warm, and clear,
a message meant for every waiting ear:
“Your future holds a light you cannot see,
but hope grows stronger when shared willingly.”
Something shifted in the people there,
a tenderness that wasn’t in the air
before she came and made them understand
how fragile dreams can be in someone’s hand.
The grown ups who had come for fun and play
felt childhood stir inside them anyway;
the kids who wanted magic, jokes, and cheer
felt bravery because she stood so near.
They gathered close, their fortunes in their palms,
and offered her their laughter, love, and calm;
a line of strangers, suddenly aligned,
each one determined to give her a sign
that she deserved a future bright and wide,
a world where she could run instead of hide.
And Zoltar, glowing in his carnival frame,
looked almost real as hope became a flame.
For magic isn’t found in gears or art,
it’s found in how we lift another’s heart.
And on that night, beneath the boardwalk’s glow,
the crowd became the fortune she’d been owed.
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