Hope

It is not often that I pass through those streets
Neatly paved, lined on either side with verdant trees
The well tended bungalows, an array of visual treats
Cars lined up in front rows of ones, twos or threes

It is not often, but each time I feel a pang, familiar
A suppressed wish that at these sights springs again
Asking me if the desire to home in here will ever inhere
delighting in the bosky environs, my purse unrestrained

In those moments, an inner voice makes itself heard
Caution dripping in each dispiriting word it chooses
They, the fetters that stop me from being a free bird,
my lofty dreams would otherwise dismiss as loser's ruses

On that day, the bus stopped to let a shiny car go
rolling gracefully as it slid past to join a running flow

At that moment, I happened to see a careworn face
defeat writ large all over, not a trace of hope in view,
in the backseat of the shiny car, that was zooming apace,
all his ample riches unable to stop him feeling blue

Thoughts and a world weary sight collided in my mind
exploding in a moment of clarity, the penny dropped
What use would be a fine bed if I couldn't find
myself in the depths of sleep, at night as I flopped

What use would a car and gardens be, if I could not
wallow in their beauty and luxury, lost in childlike innocence
How would I live my dreams that now tie me up in a knot
if all enveloping luxuries give me a life that makes no sense?

I silently prayed, wishing for a life, every day that brings,
A new desire to sail forth,  eternally in my heart as hope springs