Hope (poem)
Hope is that thing unseen
that bids you to believe
that something else is
just around the corner,
waiting to lift you up
on wings like an eagle.
Hope is that thing unseen
that you don’t know is there
until it is lost
biding it’s time to be
found again and again
remaking conceiving.
Hope waits expectantly
bending lower down with
no weight to carry
you up out of the depths
grabbing its open hand
filling overflowing
like a fountain hope springs.
This is a lovely descriptive poem about hope. I think you can definitely call yourself a poet! Thank you for pointing me this way, Jamie. God bless you. 🙂 x
Thanks, Joy! Calling myself a poet would definitely take some getting used to, like calling oneself a writer did. 🙂