Hope is an umbrella, fragile, thin, Paper-soft against the storm’s fierce din. Can it shield when the skies break apart, Or hold the weight of a weary heart?
Yet, in despair, you’ll clutch its frame, A twig, a thread, a fleeting flame. When all is lost, even the frail will do, A lifeline to grasp, to see you through.
But why not build while skies are clear, A shelter strong, for those held dear? So when storms rage, as storms will rise, There’s safety beneath your steady skies.
Beauty must light the spark in our eyes, Where laughter resounds, and humor flies. Amid the dance of autumn’s leaves, A fleeting grace our heart retrieves.
Through time’s vast realm, we pilgrims roam, Each step a journey, each moment home. Let us not forget, as days unwind, The splendor etched in life’s design.
