My shooting star,
My crescent moon,
My golden pot,
My red balloon,
Leprechaun hat,
With four leaf’d clove,
Purple shoe, pink heart
And colored bow.
So sweet, too sweet,
Sweetly tragic,
Plain oat pieces,
Delicious magic.
It once was daily,
I ate a bowl,
With 2% milk,
You made me whole.
But now it’s never
You, that I taste,
Instead black coffee,
And boring bran flakes.
I miss my charms,
I miss my lucks,
I miss being a kid,
Growing up sucks.