. for public domain
She felt dry inside,
past the time of blooms,
a lost petal pressed between lost pages
of a dusty book, stored among relics
in abandoned rooms.
Yet quietly nearby,
Hope, not with a boast,
trumpeting a victorious symphony
of vain promises of a life renewed,
hovered like a ghost.
She smiled wistfully,
"Love may come once more,
from someone who needs a hug, or kind word,
or just a friendly glance, as long as I
leave open my door."
“Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be blest.
The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.”
- Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man
Categories:
expatiates, hope,
Form: Free verse