'Lucky'

Original oil painting on canvas, framed in a solid wooden floater frame in black.

28 x 28 cm 

**Lucky the Cat**

By day, Lucky prowls with his fur sleek and black,

A sack full of charms that hang from his back.

He’s no ordinary feline, oh no, not at all,

He’s superstitious, and dreads what may fall.

With eyes wide and bright like two glowing moons,

He follows old omens and whispers of runes.

He collects little trinkets, each one with great care,

A rabbit’s foot here, a salt shaker there.

A horseshoe for luck, a coin for his paw,

For fear of a number that’s followed by law.

On the thirteenth of nights, when the moon’s hanging low,

Lucky stays hidden where shadows don’t show.

He counts his charms thrice, and then once again—

For the fear number thirteen brings to some men.

A black cat he is, so he knows all too well,

The curses they whisper, the bad-luck they tell.

So Lucky stacks talismans, old and brand new,

To shield him from woes that one day might come true.

One morning while writing at his desk of old,

A bird swooped above him, brazen and bold.

It dropped a wet morsal from the sky with a dash,

And Lucky recoiled from the messy white splash.

 But he grinned through the grime, his fur slick with the muck,

For being pooed on, they say, brings you good luck!

At his desk he arranges his charms in a row,

As winds from the east make the candles burn low.

Though haunted by jinxes, he’s as quick as a bat,

There’s no safer soul than Lucky, the cat.