Tonight I'll pour my favorite wine,  
Then set the hearth's kindling ablaze;
Countless hours will be spent pondering
The past's carefree and  blissful days

There I am!  a girl of just twenty,
With nimble step and flying hair;
Searching for love, I was confident --
As for suitors, I had my fair share

Flowers and flattery and romance
Would frequently call at my door;
Youthful days filled with Love's promise . . .
Even Heaven could offer no more!

The men were handsome, witty and fun,
Showing utmost propriety;
Strangely, I turned my back to them all --
Not one stirred Love's passion in me

But Time paid no heed to my folly,
And one by one my dreams went astray;
The shining rays of hope had grown dim --
Too often I'd turned Love away

Now each night my heart reprimands me,
Repeating "O, what have you done?"
Mistrust and indecision be ******!
I curse, and then cry for The One  

Now I watch the sun slowly descending
Deep into the Sea of Remorse;
Have I been condemned to this anguish,
Or might Fate kindly alter its course?

But the flames of hope turn to embers
As I sit alone sipping my wine,
I know somewhere there's a lonely man . . .
The One who should have been mine!

And in the midst of
clinging to both
Undecided of
which hand to hold
You have ended up
losing them both

he asked a question
and without waiting
for a response
drew three cards
from that divinatory deck
usually carrying as little
meaning as a tossed coin
scoffed at and swiftly ignored
this time seemed to tell
a recognisable tale
unexpected in its providence
a fortune perhaps
to favour the brave

the hanging man
with his eight swords
and his eight wands
these cards showed him
the start of a journey
not necessarily a life
turned upside-down
instead that a change
of perspective is needed
the octet of swords
unveiled his cage
of indecision
uncertainty and fear
a need to upset
the balance of the inert
a reasoning for destruction
in order to create
and those upright wands
carrying with them
such signs of movement
a willingness to decide
a commitment to progress

either that or
the pack was simply
reshuffled and dealt
again and again
until it foretold
that which needed
to be heard

a gentle patter of rain
tapping politely
at the window
not tempestuously
but imposing enough
in its constancy
a passive aggressive reminder
from the heavens
of our ultimate
lack of control
such a minor obstacle
and yet it tips
the scales of
what was planned
or hoped for
to something perhaps
unforeseen
not yet considered
i thought i had
no intention of
leaving the house
but find myself
rolling my eyes
with huff and sigh
cursing the grey
for ruining
that potential

by lunchtime
windscreens glisten with
newly welcomed sunlight
reflected blindingly
from droplets that linger
despite the fresh warmth
carried in the convective air
it no longer appears
to be "coat weather"
though the ground
is still puddled
to squelch or
splash underfoot
perhaps i could venture
outside after all
with a motivation
fuelled by this
latest change
but for all the blue
stretching the sky
there is still that
darkened mass of cloud
hanging heavy in the distance
unable to tell if it has
been weathered already
or is another downpour
yet to come