I am bristled and tired, my light and colour gone

but for a while as the earth draws its breath

drained by the year’s misfortunes.

Then I’ll wake again come the sun and the rain

such is the nature of all who lie in hope

for green fields and growth.

Despite the odds we move on, there is a life

beyond despair, with flint we fight

and, nurtured, learn to glow.



One comment on “Hope

  1. Melancholy. Mjo

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