Hope was buried in the lost and found
Underneath long forgotten dreams
Vision boards, and star splattered fantasies
Across years hope felt distant
Slipping further into a cavern
Never to truly come back whole
Slowly, silently listening
Waiting as Dickenson said
Listening for the thing with feathers
Crickets curtain the background now
With a gaze up into vastness
Hope has been found again
YOU ARE READING
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PoetryA collection of poetry across ages, moments, and confusion. Tw - read at own desire
