The weather seems colder
As you grow older.
The chip on your shoulder
May become a boulder
Weighing you down.
Be careful lest you drown
In your overwhelming sense of wrong.
Do please change that old song
It has gone on to long.
The record is stuck
Stop wallowing in muck.
The truth is we make our own luck!
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K Morris - Poet 
‘We make our own luck,’ i love that! Beautiful piece.
Thank you! I am glad you liked it. Best wishes. Kevin