Hope is the food that feeds me
when the cupboards all run bare
It warms my tummy with thoughts so yummy
and never skips a dare
When flirting with a thought so lovely
hope lingers longingly
It flails its passionate storm above me
as its dreams consume and woo me
May hope not be this dreamer's dream,
but a prelude to enliven
And ready I will always be
when hope's surprise will rise then
-ME
I'm getting a little tired of failing.
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