Pitter-patter
the sweet splashes of feet in the fresh rain puddles
the water spraying my face as a truck rolls by
like they don't even notice my pale wet face
look a four leafed clover, watch out for the lawn mower
as it cut it down into shreds the grass covers my black converse
I sit down on a bench, the bench is wet, I guess watching a four leafed clover getting torn into shreds isn't such good luck after all
four leafed clover, demolished
This is a very nice poem. It was very wet.
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