Five dollars of the future,
an hour tells you all.
The Gypsy knows the answers,
they're in her crystal ball.
The calendar read, July First,
Two Thousand Twelve, half through.
But no one saw the pages
and no one ever knew.
Nothing ever changed again,
even time stood still.
Nothing ever changed again
and nothing ever will.
No one thought that it would happen
and they never thought again.
There were no second chances,
no looking back to when.
Now even frozen darkness
doesn't bother anyone.
There's no one to remember
standing in the sun.
The crystal ball went empty.
The Gypsy turned away.
I'd asked her for the future
and now I'd have to pay.
Jane Van Doe
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/2012-21/
