Many Futures
I had a crystal ball.
Oh, the many futures it told
As I held it
In the palm of my hand.
Lying on grass, eyes shut, overhearing distant laughter.
Two uneven stone paths.
Unexpected generosity.
A room, in a house, in a city, snuggled under fresh blankets.
Catching a bus to an unfamiliar destination.
Love, unyielding.
Silver stars in a dark purple sky.
Lemonade bubbles exploding like fireworks on my tongue.
An end to war.
More.
I put down the crystal ball.
My parents said it was a broken snow globe,
But I knew better.
Oh, the many futures it told
As I held it
In the palm of my hand.
Lying on grass, eyes shut, overhearing distant laughter.
Two uneven stone paths.
Unexpected generosity.
A room, in a house, in a city, snuggled under fresh blankets.
Catching a bus to an unfamiliar destination.
Love, unyielding.
Silver stars in a dark purple sky.
Lemonade bubbles exploding like fireworks on my tongue.
An end to war.
More.
I put down the crystal ball.
My parents said it was a broken snow globe,
But I knew better.
This poem is copyright (©) Ian Brownlie 2025

About the Writer
Ian Brownlie
Ian lives with his family in Marlow, Bucks (UK). His prospective middle grade novel, Solomon Brown from Hero Town, was longlisted for the Times/Chicken House Children's Fiction Competition. His poems have been published in The Dirigible Balloon and The Toy.
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