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Fourleaf Clovers
by Paul Leaman


My mother was better at one thing,
Than anyone I know;
She did this with the greatest of ease,
Everywhere, she would go.

As she walked along in the grass,
I would see her bending down;
And with a smile on her face,
Pick something from the ground.

There in her fingers,
Mother held her prize;
It would be a fourleaf clover,
Much to my surprise.

So I in my youth, started my pursuit,
And searched, all the ground over;
And wouldn't you know, it was always so,
Not to be found the prized clover.


© by Paul H. Leaman
06/08/2005


This writing may be used in its entirety, with credits in tact,
for non-profit ministering purposes.


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