4 of 100

by Dolores Moore

There they lie, like hopes unborn, flying
Horses, ridden in the early morning air by beggars.
Away they rush, swiftly gone in the wink of weeping eyes.

Gaily dancing, heart-breaking losses they amass
Without thought. They slip from empty hands,
Even as desires rise; soon gone from the eager grasp.

Yet wishes cause the hopes to spring, the heart to leap,
The soul to lift heavenwards. Without their
Elusive glints of gold, how much poorer we would be.

What should be known, admitted, learned, is that
Without wishes, noting worthwhile can be won.
Hold them fast, keep them strong, achieve what you want.

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Poetry: Wishes

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Poetry: Wishes

by Dolores Moore

Poetry: Wishes

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