I haven’t seen any four-leaf clovers, lately. I forget to look, the days seem to pass with just enough sparkle that I don’t require it to get by. They race past me in blues, the years amass and I’m not yet sure what I have to show for it but these piles of love, they’ll never earn you stripes but is it possibly enough to just have put smiles into the world? You weigh accomplishments to compare and contrast, remind yourself the solution is to step back up again, how much time you lose to the toll of the Red Queen, you wonder if it isn’t time again to swim in poetry, let it soften your question marks.
You book new tickets, pack bags big and small. Look for four-leaf clovers again.
Consider that maybe they’re a metaphor within you, instead.
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