Like a crystal chandelier in the palm of a gentle hand rests Hope.
She rises like the joyous expectation of a new mother,
Like a budding seedling in the spring;
with the dream of better tomorrows.
Hope is fragile,
fraught with yesterday’s disappointments
Suspended like a chandelier on a mere silver thread.
When Hope is crushed
Glass shards remain
piercing the skin, blood reminders of pain; pain and sorrow.
on the wings of a dawn
believing for a better tomorrow.
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