Oh, the irony of hope.


The Beauty of Hope

She stood so tall, slender and fair,
she made me remember of when you were there.
Open and beautiful in the sunshine and air,
but then I remembered that I no longer care.

Then I saw the second one there,
and at her I found that I could only stare.
She was poised and proud, just standing there,
and then I remembered I should no longer care.

To each one I went and spoke to the ear,
praised the beauty they had offered to share.
The stirring within me then brought me despair,
because to you, this beauty, I thought to compare.

The two that stood in their glorious fair,
on stems the blossoms stood here and there.
In your name I gathered the blooming pair,
and then let them wither in the summer air.

The last two flowers I picked are there,
shortened and shriveled because life is unfair.
My love for you and the flowers compare,
as for neither now do I bother to care.



Poetry by Bonehead83
Read 99 times
Written on 2022-08-21 at 13:36

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text