They are so many - and clearly my hopes too.
Hope springs eternal and is the source that flavours so much of my sadness. Hope, that spring of fresh glistening life that trickles away and leaves just so much mud.
Up on my heels - an anchor for strength. Strength needs hope and hope springs eternal and is the source that flavours so much of my sadness.
Mud and more sucking mud - but hope springs eternal, it is a stuck record, hope, hope, hope... without it there is nothing but all it brings is hope that springs eternal and flavours so much of my sadness.
Take a joy - watch it bloom in a milk-bottle filled with water - a full bottle will still be nearly full long after the joy is gone.
So - take this hand, please - oh, you have gone.. false expectations, I should know better but at least there is hope.
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