can’t it also be just a thing with wings?
a thing that stirrs in a gentle breeze,in a whispered word,
in a dark tunnel with only a glimmer of light at the end?
a thing that needs only a faint smile
to infer that everything will be all right?
a thing, that despite what the world says,
sees not only cloud nine,
but a future on it?
can’t hope be a thing -
anything -
that you make it to be?
