The Honey Pot Of Luck I keep it near to bring me luck

The Honey Pot Of Luck

I keep it close, this jar of gold

not for sugar, not for show

but for the way it seems to hold

a kind of pull the old folks know

They said, a pot of honey near

will draw in luck and keep it fed,

so I placed it plain, not out of fear,

but for the love of what they said

No silver coin or charm-bound knot

has ever worked as well as this

just warmth and trust inside the pot

no prayers, no spells, no promised kiss

I don’t believe in tales and stars

but some things work, and this one does

not magic, fate, or healing jars,

just something steady, just because it does

It doesn’t cure, it doesn’t mend

but draws the good and keeps it near

not as a saviour, not a friend.

just mine, and that is why it’s here.

I don’t expect, I don’t pretend

it won’t erase what I’ve been through

but on the days that will not bend

it holds its shape—and I do too

It hums with something calm and sure

like bees that know their chosen track

a sweetness deep, uncut, and pure

that winds around and calls luck back

And I don’t stir, I do not dip

I leave it whole, I leave it sealed

for fortune needs no fingertip,

just quiet hope, and what’s revealed

So if you pass, don’t mock or scoff

at what you see upon my shelf

the world’s been cold, the road’s been rough.

this honey helps me to get by with enough.