Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. - Proverbs 13:12

 POEM 106: HOPE


It's a year on the verge of almost
that I have not seen her glow
rising from behind the mountain over there
to smile on me when I wallow in my mire.

It's a year on the verge of almost
that I have not heard her sweet growl
running beside guitar chords
to tickle my heart when I sob.

It's surely never, never, never
the possibility of falling over
into the warm embrace of her arms
for succor when reticent I am.

Thunderstorms are louder
Nightmares are scarier
When will the blue sky be bluer
and my sun patched garden greener?

Oh how high my hopes were
Lo! how low reality dives!
Yet I know someday, she'll appear at the horizon
and smile down on me with sweet glow of her song.

It's a year on the verge of almost
almost throwing in the towel
but her last song whispered growth,
it's said 'it shall be well'

So happy my saliva I swallow
and in this mire I wallow
because it's at the verge of almost
my heart shall by hope glow

It's a year on the verge of almost
Oh here comes the whirlwind of hope
...and this cloud of thickened doubts
shall away be blown.


- Stefn Sylvester Anyatonwu
#365DaysOfPoetry
#Pengician
#SSA




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