I don’t understand,
And yet I do.
The clover is considered lucky,
I guess I need one to help me through,
I am blue and that is sad,
But the sky is blue is the sky sad?
I wear my raincoat to avoid the water,
And yet I cleanse my sorrows in a the wet embrace of a shower,
They wash away and run down the drain,
*A small weight off my back so I don’t waste away.
I just started experimenting with poetry and would love to know what other people think of my work. :)