Hope

In boxes stacked one atop another
In darkening closets where stories are kept
The secrets we keep from one another
Are the stories that play in the mind as we slept.
And so the sweet dreams roll like videotape
Where imagination lures the strong and the weak
The antagonist rolls his moustache and swings his cape
While Cupid flies above on tiny wings. We seek
The bright and beautiful solution of all that dismays,
Our rolling thunder is siphoned into tomorrow
Yet we celebrate what become our happiest days
Hoping that we shall never revisit our sorrow.
Come lightly then, with the most generous hope
And waken to your new life as your sweet eyes ope’.