A New Hope

Shades of yesterday

Still perpetrate the ever curious mind

Water running through old hands

As wise faces toast to every sunrise

See the best dressed

Draw eyes that frown

Or be the scorns absolution

A fairy dream built to give

The ever rising imagination

Room to become

Are we fickle like the small tree

With no fig shall grow

No robin to perch on our head

Life ever be the temptress

Aquire days to imprint old ways

That at times be so delicate or decayed