I had hope once. The hope in my childhood which no rules could restrain.
I had hope once. The hope that I had in my youth which nothing could contain.
I had hope once. The hope I found in my success from which I wished never to refrain.
I had a hope once. All through my middle years, I nurtured it, expecting it to remain.
I had a hope once. Years had flown as minutes. The hours I’d treated with disdain.
Now I’m old and I have a question; does hope equate to pain?
© 2016, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.