I'm holding to hope,
and hope has a name,
it isn't Mary or Thomas or David or Jane,
Seymore or Thadius or sweet Betty Sue,
Penelope, Woody, Clarissa Magoo.
Hope is the knowing felt deep in your heart,
when the odds are against you and you grope in the dark.
And you can't see the forest for towering trees,
And you fall over obstacles, skinning both knees.
Hope is the offspring of Faith, Noah's dove.
Her Father is Grace.
So that makes her - Love.
~~~
I penned these simple child-like words in 1999 fol
