The Four Leaf Clover
If the four leaf clover is so lucky
Why does it stand in a sea of familiarity unseen
Alone, waiting to be plucked
From all who are the same but different?
To be greeted with such excitement
Expectations too high to fulfill
It becomes unreal, a myth, a lie
And yet it lies in wait
Hoping to be found, safe and secure
So it can become so much more
Than something so utterly fake.
Like Her Type 