Hope at Hope

The roses came a little bruised,
Their petals soft, their color used.
But still you smiled and set them high,
A quiet grace behind your eye.

The morning stretched with open skies,
No noise, no rush, no reason why.
We pedaled out, just us three,
You, our son, and me—set free.

He led the way, so full of light,
His little frame in morning’s height.
We followed close, hearts keeping time,
The world behind, the day sublime.

Then brunch at Hope, long-planned with care,
A little place, a lot to share.
Your coffee steamed, your laughter warm,
Inside that calm, we found our form.

We talked like we had all the years,
No stress, no weight, no silent fears.
Just waffles, smiles, and hands that knew—
This day was made for only you.

Later came the dog’s delight,
A walk, the yard, the soft dusk light.
We ran, we played, we breathed in deep,
And watched the world begin to sleep.

And when the stars rose overhead,
We met again in our warm bed.
No need for words, just touch and trust—
A kind of love that feels like us.

Though roses fade, this day will stay—
A perfect bloom in memory’s clay.
A ride, a laugh, a look, a kiss—
A life built slowly, full of this.

© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.