Clover

Luck is
What I make of it
While superstition
Guides my hand
I like to think
I make my own luck
But if the Fates weave their own pattern
Am I nothing
But another stitch?
And so I hold
My four-leaf clover
A little stroke of luck
Brought it to me
And so I have it
To keep me sane
To deceive me
To reassure me
To convince me
I have some control