The Hope for Better Days

I shall drink out

of my favourite vase

without throwing

the wilted flowers away,

and I shall poke

the lonesome cloud

above my foggy head

with a stick that I shall fashion

out of every thing

I should have thrown away

a long time ago.

I might sing myself to sleep,

but I shall not sleep a wink,

and I shall beat

some eggs and feel bad

for the whites,

and the bright yellows

outside my window

that I can see, but cannot

touch for a while,

and this thought shall bring

an offhand smile

that I shall not smile

in hopes of it growing

into a big grin one day!


Image by cocoparisienne from Pixabay

“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.”
Pablo Neruda

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