Tufts of shamrock lea
tickling the back of my feet
as I my honey orbs
darted across
the meadow of elusive hope.

His smile so proud
of his moves so smooth
the shard pieces of my heart
I threw to apprise him
of the colors of my soul
that began to blend
since the moment I saw him
across the field of flimsy chance.

He swaggered his way
through the obstacles ahead
smirked when he took note
of the flies that hovered above
but not the fawn of honey orbs
that watched him across the field.