Shining Like Brilliantine

Along the track a horse and caravan trundled,
Brushing the green and verdant grass between,
Inhaling the cool fresh air, she walked beside it,
With the bridle’s brass shining like brilliantine.

Inside were all the items that she treasured,
Gaily painted articles of her youth.
A crystal ball, her means to make a living,
Within a lonely Fortune Teller’s booth.

Her Mother, and Grandmother had before her,
Told the fortunes of a thousand curious minds,
This tradition in her blood’s forever present,
A Romany woman takes on what she finds.

Climbing swiftly up onto the wagon,
With melodious words, she flicked the fraying reins.
Coaxing the piebald on to their next location,
Sauntering off down new found country lanes.

© Ernestine Northover

by Ernestine Northover

Comments (4)

The whole thing is just wonderful, each word as if a brush-stroke from the painters hand I could picture the scene so clearly Thankyou again, another lovely piece, Love duncan x
I think that of the poets that use Rhyme Ernestine, you are, without doubt, my favorite. The attention to detail in this poem and the adherence to form, is the reason. This has a beautiful title (very funny, I thought) and is so clear in its approach to the wonderful and dreamy narrative.
We all have our own treasures that in our minds eye shine as does your poem and the excellence of your glad they let me read this....trouble here since wed. nothing moves, IF one even gets in.....Happy to have found another gem of yours..~~~~~marci.xox
Sigh.... always and without fail it is such a treat to see you posting. An Ernestine classic. t x