In The Colored Clouds

Hope

Roses are pruned to hold in hand,
Rarely seeing the beauty of another land

Hope is not a rose, for it is wild and free
It needs not be kept, it will merely be

And when all is dark,
And you hear no lark,

It brings to mind all the good things,
It shows you that you have wings.

Hope is strong and is stable,
Though winds blow to disable

Hope is not a flower
It holds much greater power

Flowers can only look up at the sky,
When Hope can always fly.

-Otter