Green shaded four-leaf clover with a curling stem above the Irish phrase go deo i mo chroí, drawn as a flash design with no body placement shown.

Four-leaf clover with Irish lettering

Botanical · Colour · Flash

A green four-leaf clover with a curling stem sits in the lower right of the image, with a smooth outline and soft shading in several greens. Above it, the lowercase Irish phrase "go deo i mo chroí" is set in a clean sans-serif typeface on a plain white background. The composition is simple and centred on the clover, with the text spanning the top of the frame.

Botanical Four-leaf clover Clover Stem Lettering

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody in Carrowkeel could remember who started the talk that the clover behind the forge was lucky, only that by the summer of 1956 half the village was down on its knees in the wet grass hunting for a fourth leaf. Brigid Moran found the first one. She didn't keep it. She walked up the lane to the Kellys' gate, where old Tom Kelly was mending a cart wheel with his shirt off, and she pressed the leaf into his palm and said nothing at all.

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Tom looked at it a long while. His wife had gone to a laundry in Liverpool the spring before, and she had written twice since, short letters with the same line at the bottom: I am keeping well. He had never answered them, because he could not find the words for the thing he wanted to say, and his English went stiff on paper the way a gate rusts shut. Brigid saw the look on him and went away again without a word, which was the only kindness she had in her.

That night he sat at the kitchen table with a pencil and the back of a feed merchant's invoice. He wrote the words his mother had sung over the cradle, the ones that meant forever in my heart, and he spelled each one slowly, the way the schoolmaster had taught him, until the lamp needed trimming. He folded the leaf inside the page and walked the four miles to the post office at Kilmore Cross before the milk was out.

The postmistress weighed the envelope and asked if there was anything valuable inside. Only the truth, he said, and paid his penny. On the Thursday the Galway train pulled into Kilmore Cross, and a woman stepped down onto the platform with a case in each hand, looking for him along the line of men in their caps.