6th June 2010


Six used to be my favourite number;
Two used to be the one it eventuated to;
Four was the one that brought me luck in the aftermath.
Little pieces of green grew in my garden,
the littlest,
the smallest,
the tiniest,
a four-leaf clover.

I bought a horseshoe for six,
But my name held eight and I thought of my friend “his nine”.
I’ll be his five… but that is
well and far and
true beside this sequence.

Numbers are nothing –
Right now I’ve:
ten of those things left to write,
two of those secrets running,
three of those hand-me-ins,
one of those squishy-things,
a few days till rest,
but only one of you.

There will only ever be one of you.
Three syllables to three.
Together are six,
yet can be split individually into two –

I go into a quiet corner.
There are always two hands for a hug.
Good things come in pairs.

You are my four-leaf-clover.