Hope in the mind is the purest white,
For nothing tastes so sweet,
And nothing shines so brightly.
But if gazed upon more closely,
However uncertain, there exists a hue
In its precious face.
No dark color nor mid-tone,
But one that’s bright,
But darker than white.
With a faint whisper,
Yellow hints at its presence,
And does so shyly,
For it sees my smile and desires not
To take it away.
However, it must warn me -
That hope does not birth sureties.
This yellow tinge glows
To distinguish hope from a road to certainty,
For if these two were one in the same,
So hope and uselessness would be.
Yellow is brilliant,
But not quite white.
An encouraging warning
Its existence is.
Tags: