And What Am I But Hope?

A shadow in the city streets

A cipher of the darkened ways

A tree alone up on a hill

A festival of Shakespeare’s plays

A marvel I can’t understand

A question there’s no answer to

“And what am I but hope?” she asks

This nova, bright, unnoticed

Hitherto

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure. View all posts by Beleaguered Servant