Perfect Four

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