Look out of any window,
an you might not see the sun,
you might just crave dear warmpth,
when each day is fine'ly  done,

From those rays that shine above us,
now a written sky in prose,
look out of any window though,
you might not see a rose,

Though the daylight should still show,
a glimmer through the dark,
to fade through even darkest clouds,
just a tiny bit of spark,

Offers in minute increments of hope.

Ma Cherie © 2017