Luck is what a man locks
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Lady luck seldom seems to smile at me, and I was wondering why. But, looking at all the lost opportunities I’ve now come to know why. Luck happens when a man locks his chances, quiet that come, not a knock.
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Luck, what’s not when God picks lots from a pot,
Nor so much when a chance arrives to knock
At closed door nor when birds of fortune flock,
Luck’s no ‘crow perches fruit falls’ kind of lot,
Nor does begin when a lucky break locks,
Nor is a strike the iron be when hot,
Alibis all, a lost-out man has sought
When he fails to pull up his loosened socks.
Luck lingers when a man dots every dot
And never waits for Lady Luck to come,
The odds when turn opportune, nay, awesome,
Luck favours but when all battles are fought.
This, from a man who’s missed luck umpteen times,
And whose next time must wait for better climes.
____________________________________
Sonnet | 03.01.2018 | fate/fortune/luck, lot, opportunity/chance, humour
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