In the square.
Looking up to take the air.
It is a lovely day.
But she know that anyway.
A shadow cast on the ground.
The fortune teller
turns around.
Not forseen and not fortold.
This fortune teller is very old.
On this time
on this day.
The fortune teller
passed away.
Roy Storey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fortune-teller/