-- The Hope Candle --

John Herlihy

It’s a funny thing, hope.

It creeps upon us unawares,

Sits there on the horizon content,

Uninvited, yet as if it belongs.

Like a perfume that insinuates itself,

Filling our days with its sweet thoughts.

A mirage putting ideas into our heads.

A flickering candle burning on hope’s wick

A Christmas stocking on the mantle piece,

Filled with tangerines and peppermint sticks.

Promises to be kept, desires unfulfilled.

We call it hope when all else fails us.

Hope will keep us going, show us the way.

I am struggling to say what it is exactly.

We don’t really know what it means,

Until there is no hope there to be had.

Gone this brief, flickering candle,

With the power to illuminate worlds.

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Copyright © John Herlihy

Tuesday 1 June 2021