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My door would close
upon my truth
and then it closed
upon my youth.
I sat and thought
about my days
and how I died
one hundred ways.
No dreams had I
no way to cope
no hand to hold
no faith; no hope.
Which way to turn
do I give up
or do I dare
drink from The Cup?
One clear sweet song
my one last chance
my new tomorrow
at the dance.
Oh my dear Lord
throw me the rope
help me hold on
God give me HOPE.
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| Writing Prompt |
Pen a poem in no more than twenty-four lines that rhyme on what hope means to you. |
Author Notes
I love the thought and the word "hope", so it was nice to write about it.
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