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On a dusty plain that only crickets
& distant wolves usually sing
Now sits a caravan of misfits
The type that keeps you on the edge
of wonder & unease.
Filled with people that
seem to be other-worldly
& intriguing.
Antique carriage cars with candle lanterns &
faded multicolored tents that glow like cave
mushrooms in the dark foggy night.
One such tent catches your eye. Mossy
green & deep purple fabric that seems to
fade to gold under the moon light as you
approach… A peak inside sits a frosted globe,
swirling with energy almost begging to
answer the question you didn’t know you
wanted answered a moment ago.
Sandalwood is in the air & crystals
shimmer on the shelves.
This is where Wihelmena lives...
this is where her magic is kept.
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