Red shoes touch green grass
Little legs crouch in the dirt
Small hands pick past
The wind blows up her skirt

Flowers bloom in nearby fields
Weeds shoot up between them
4 leaf clovers don’t seem real
Because she’s never seen them

The breeze makes the oak tree rustle
Its branches tremble and shake
The road behind the patches bustle
The man next door rakes

She’s often called a useless rover
Longing to find something unique
She likes to climb and step all over
In the hat her mother once called chic

She wipes away a lock of hair
Shuffling past all the normal weeds
She finds a leaf with a tear
She blows away some seeds

She never found a 4 leaf clover, see
She had to settle for just three