Hope

Hope is the golden

First light of day,

The blue of the sky,

As the clouds drift away. 

The brush of the wind,

On a hot summer noon,

The smell of the ocean,

In mid to late June. 

Hope is the smile

Of two newlyweds,

The soft, little snoring,

Of a baby in bed. 

The laughter of children,

As they skip and race,

The eyes of the old,

Twinkling with grace. 

Hope is the fading

Of the last ray of light,

The blue of the sky,

As it melts into night. 

The catch of breath,

As the stars appear,

The song of the heavens,

Hope is here.