Can you see the future?

What does the future hold for me?

I ask the wind.

Do you know where it is headed

Right or wrong?

I hold out my palm

So you can see the lines

Do they tell the story

Of days to come?

There will be roses

And there will be thorns,

But will it hurt too much

Will it sting till I cry?

Will there be sunshine

Like there is now?

‘Do you know’,

I ask the wind

‘Of what is to come?’

 

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