Anna Court

I searched, I looked for what felt like ages.

Hands and knees rummaging through the damp earth

but despite my best efforts, I could not find my four leaf clover.

Clovers with three leaves swallowed my yard. 

Back and front.

Three leaf clovers as far as the eye could see. 

I didn't want any of them.

I wanted mine

My special, perfect, not so common four leaf clover.

Except, that's not how it works

If a four leaf clover does not want to grow, it will not

I could not demand it into existence.

A lesson learned, I stood up, rubbing the dirt onto my jeans

and quietly

                  walked 

                                 away

This poem is about: 
Me

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