Four Leaves

*I wrote this children's rhyming tale last year but it never found a home until now...

Four Leaves

 

Four leaves on my clover,

four leaves, I can see!

I picked it when Dad used the mower,

and now I’ve got wishes for me.

 

It was a tricky thing I’ll say

to get to it in time,

because the mower was so fast

and its blades are sharp and fine.

 

I did a tumble, roll and jump,

just like they taught at school,

(that’s acrobat school don’t you know

don’t think that I’m a fool).

 

As I said, I jumped and rolled,

or something of that sort.

And when I plucked up that clover,

I knew I was a clever sport.

 

It happened so very fast,

when I saw it had four leaves.

I’d been sitting on the rooftop,

hidden among the eaves.

 

Impossible? No, not at all,

not when you know the moves.

From roof to tree to grass I rolled

and without even wearing my shoes.

 

Now, now, don’t think me odd,

I do it all the time…

I liberate small things you see,

that I think are so divine.

 

Last week it was a chocolate cake

that my sister had.

She would have eaten it, truly so!

But instead I made her mad.

 

I swooped down on a rope,

(I’d been practicing high wire).

I popped that cake into my mouth

and Sister swore blue fire.

 

And two weeks before,

I rescued a lost cat.

She was about to be eaten, (I swear!)

by a large lady in a blue hat.

 

I got in trouble of course,

but it’s worth it in the end.

With cat and cake and clovers all

any rule I’ll bend.

 

Anyway, I digress, what was I to say?

Ah yes, my lovely, leafy clover.

Four leaves all for me to wish,

but for what I’ll think it over.

 

Should I wish for a new bike,

with shiny red new paint?

Or maybe a huge trampoline,

with that I’d have no complaint.

 

Then, I suppose, I could wish something nice,

for all my family to share.

Nah, I think I keep all four wishes,

a nine-year-old shouldn’t care.

 

“Alan, get back inside,”

a voice shouted from behind.

And all my wishes vanished,

blanked by the daily grind.

 

It was just my imagination after all,

but a boy’s got to wish sometime.

It’s back to homework now for me,

No trampoline or bike so fine.

 

Until, at least… maybe Christmas time.