Day Thirteen: Fortunate Son

His fortune cookie ever displays

No fortune there to predict his days

He is handsome, he is swell

But his fortune it won’t tell

 

Success belongs to those who work hard

You’d think the writer is quite a bard

But ever fails his cookie then

The future for him to spin

 

And yet my cookies often portend

A future just around the bend

You are doomed to be blissful in wedlock

With the fortunate son, I’ve thrown my stock