Thursday, October 30, 2008

poem thirteen

luck
that's what i could use
luck
to cure my blues

i need a little rabbit's foot
a clover of four leaves
and a little bit of pixie dust
rolled up in my sleeves

a shiny penny on the ground
catch its gleam, as i look around
pick it up, make a wish
toss it into a well, with a swish

an awfully joyous little lamp
to grant me wishes three
i close my eyes and imagine
so much opportunity

a fortune cookie with my meal
i wonder if the fortune's true
but why the superstition
when i'm wishin
my good luck is you

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