Tuesday, August 09, 2016

The trouble with feathers

Hope is the thing with feathers
Harsh-tongued and gaudy as a peacock
Hope is the thing with feathers
tHat itch inside one's heart

Hope is the thing with feathers
That gyres and gambols overhead
Her wings agains a black weather's
Oily rain and bulldozer's thread.

Oft she smiles, and oft she screams
I know she'll never rest
She'll jump at any sunbeams
She'll push your very best.

Hope is the thing with feathers
And I, for one, have none.

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