hope floats
on the gossamer wings
of beautiful dreams
and stings sweetly, exquistely so,
with thoughts of better things.
as you sit, quietly and cry

hope is, undeniable,
to believe you have none;
is like, holding your breath,
eventually,
you have to come undone and take....
a great gulping mouthful
of fresh air.

we all hope, we all breathe,
waiting for, something
on wings of gossamer,
to alight and  let us live anew......again.