A clover rests on my page,
Its stem proud and strong,
Its petals crooked
To prove its reality,
It’s color green,
So beautiful,
Yet so overlooked
Just because it exists in abundance,
It’s vanes nearly clear,
So faint I see the sun
Winking through,
Yet so powerful,
Giving the tiny plant
The ability to survive,
To stretch to the sky,
So obviously hopeful,
Simply living its life,
Taking in each emotion
The sky delivers to its roots,
The sunshine,
The rain,
Even the gray,
Using it all for the best,
The clover a miracle
Delivered to us from the soil,
Rising from the ashes
Of past organisms,
Yet the clover,
For some reason I cannot
Fathom,
Is deemed
Unlucky.
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