#65: June 27, 2006

There are days when nothing seems to turn out right;
You wake up on the wrong side of the bed,
Catch your toes on the rug, flop down a flight
Of stairs and land awkwardly on your head;

Black cats know of no other paths but yours,
And mirrors shatter at your merest touch;
Ladders loom ominously over doors
You must pass. Lucky horseshoes? Not so much.

Some days the tales told by those wise old wives
Hold no comfort. No good signs come your way,
And every hour's a trial to be survived--
Good luck is in the end of such a day.

But I, fortunate fool, can take your arm
And thank my natal stars I've such a charm.