Promises Kept Poem by Gary Witt

Wait here, she said, I’ll be right back.
It was her first promise to me;
A small one, yes, but
She gave it, kept it; left and returned.
I smiled watching her saunter away,
Grinned as she seemed to gravitate back.
She gave me five more,
Each like the first, a tiny sparkling word
Brought to life in the keeping,
Planting in me a seed of hope,
Cast on rocky soil, but each took,
This one and the next one too,
And soon I hoped, and still I hope.
Since then she has surely placed
A million more, back to back,
Giving them first, then keeping them,
Until I wonder now whose hope this is:
Mine, because she gave it to me
Or in the keeping still hers?