Hope is a flower.
It may bloom in springtime,
and all through summer.
But eventually it will die,
as the harsh conditions arrive.
Suffering through this time,
only the stem will stand.
Just like the flame,
of hope only flickers.
But springtime will come,
as every year it does.
Then the flower will be reborn,
and hope will return.
The cycle will continue,
forevermore.
(08 Jan.2009)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem