HOPE

I have just finished writing my father a letter about HOPE.

And outside the sun is still shining.

As it goes down and leaves us with night.

Someone is singing. 

People are clapping.

It could be - 

Ave Maria.

For all we know. 

It’s too faint to make out the words.

But perhaps that is HOPE.

A hazy sky.

A half-sun.

A sudden grip to the air

Which bands around your fingers

And soaks your entire bedroom

In a chilly dew

Like from the dawn.

A musk that reminds you 

Of your mother’s perfume

Companionly hard and soft.

That is HOPE.

A faint song that continues on in the background of our daily lives.