New Year's Eve

By Joan Sutcliffe

Through midnight chill the bells are pealing
as the year slips by on silent legs
the feast is over, the food consumed
and tea cups empty save for the dregs

A motley bunch are round the table
there’s Bert and Charlie, Jean and Lorna
Romeo, Pearl and old man Henry
and a gypsy crouched in the corner

With fingers deft she probes the tea leaves
expression sinister and somber
all faces tense in expectation
as a sudden gasp of dread comes from her

With dramatic sweep she rises up
there’s something bad afoot I fear,
“the crazy witch she’s mad as a hatter”
young Bertie laughs with hint of a sneer

A gleaming eye she fixes on him
you mock me at your peril, she croaks
the clammy hand of fate is falling
to snatch away one of you folks

Will it be me? asks Jeanie trembling
the pattern in her tea cup swirling
she clutches frantically at her hair
cheeks afire and hippy beads twirling

Oh no, my dear, your cup is smiling
from sunny Spain across the Atlantic
a stranger tall and suave and handsome
is coming to make your life romantic

Now Romeo is turning jealous
what of me? he sulks and strokes his beard
the gypsy scorns the latin lover
your path of destiny’s very weird

Please tell my fortune, now pleads Charlie
though a cold wind’s stirring up his hackles
it’s just a spooky game he’s thinking
but the tea leaves never lie, she cackles

Her black hair falling in tangled curls
she shakes and twitches in funny jerks
for goodness sake! sniggers haughty Pearl
the silly fool! old Henry smirks

With piercing glance she nails them down
soon you will wish that you never spoke
predictions are coming now wild and free
and not one of them dares make a joke

Fierce-eyed and gaunt she’s out on a roll
even formidable one might say
a torrent of words are pouring out
no secrets withheld from light of day

As night creeps on the drama slackens
and around the table bodies slump
then suddenly from somewhere above
comes the ominous sound of a bump

The lights flicker off, then come back on
and all eyes turn to an empty chair
oh gosh! there’s panic in their voices
was there someone earlier sitting there?

What’s left now is the kitchen table
and the ringing of a morning bell
an empty seat and the gypsy’s gone
what happened in the dark, who can tell!


Bio

Originally from Yorkshire, growing up in the untamed countryside of the Bronte's where she enjoyed the romantic literature of that period, particularly that which gave voice to the restless spirit seeking the mysteries of its own source. This led her into the field of eastern philosophy and mysticism, and for many years she has been a keen student of Theosophy, as introduced to the West by H.P. Blavatsky.