Where Does Hope Rest?
What hope does rest on the fragile back of my young son?
His shoulders not yet strong
Enough to bear the weight of all the glorious goals
I have set before him
His tender eyes still see the awe and wonder of butterflies
as the most magical of beings
creatures with fairy wings that just might come and wisp
him away to Neverland
if he whispers the right blessing in their ears
His globe eyes still full of the wonder of being
I see those eyes
I was once behind such eyes myself
But now my eyes are heavy with hope
Should hope be heavy?
Or is it enough to just be?
copyright c Leah Maines, 2012