lucky river

you might imagine
a factory downtown in
a city far away
where luck is made, bottled, canned
shipped around the world, and dispersed

or you might imagine
a jolly imp, jumping about
gifting some but not other

either way, you say
lucks not in the cards for you
boo hoo.

but luck is in the very air
swirling all around you
it is the flower in your hair
every step that’s not in poo

strip off those mud colored glasses you wear
let the love embrace you
of what you think, and feel, take care
for that is what defines you

open up  a fresh can of fortune at where the prompt for the seventh day of Global Poetry Writing Month is Luck.  The river is because that is how luck flows, and the way the spaces line up in the poem, to let the luck come through!  We are lucky to be reading!  and writing!

5 thoughts on “lucky river

  1. My father’s name was Harold, but everyone (ev-er-y-one!) called him Lucky. I don’t know why. No one I ever met knows/knew why. And the old man never told anyone, just shrugged his shoulders whenever anyone asked.

    I feel lucky to have found your blog. Thanks.

    Liked by 1 person

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