Chalked out visioned dreams drawn out by tiny prophet hands

Yet worn out by time gets to the problem that I am

Roadside clover patch, searching for the luck I lack

Catch my eye as I untwine, only to find three smiling back

Simply to be

Clear to see

The cement is spreading wide as the flowers push on through

Causing webs of cracks to spread; what can a mother do?

Residues of greens and blues smeared by the feet of day

A child's work, a friendly wash, down to dull, flat greys

Simply to be

Clear to see

I know I don't know much, but I stand without a crutch

Shiny shards of broken glass lay down like a promise in the grass

Found the perfect four; it takes a while

You used to smile, you used to smile

Come on fortune fish define; come and curl up in my hand

As the tapestry that's weaved confers up all my plans

Reading out the years into the rings of grain

Now a stump, once a tree on which we carved our names