Hope

The heart, a hollow drum, a muted beat,

Where joy once danced, now only cold retreat.

The world, a canvas washed in shades of grey,

Each whispered promise fading with the day.

A heavy blanket, woven tight with pain,

Where silent tears like endless rivers rain.

The weight of memories, a crushing stone,

A lonely vigil, utterly alone.

The future stretches, barren, bleak, and vast,

A whispered echo of a fading past.

The fragile hope, a flickering, dying ember,

Threatened by winds that fiercely dismember.

But then, a sliver of the moon, a silver thread,

A gentle whisper, rising from the dead.

A distant melody, a hopeful strain,

A cleansing rain that washes clean the stain.

And through the darkness, a new dawn appears,

A burst of color, banishing all fears.

The sun ascends, a radiant, golden gleam,

And hope's new river, flowing like a dream

Elisa Ji, V C