“Hope is a Con Man”
Another time; another place might be
but only age gives open eyes to see.
For, if we were again but seventeen,
we’d stumble, still, as blind to destiny.
Oh, fervent Hope, he is the con man’s ruse.
He holds our breath and makes our heart beat fast.
Yet, all the while, he conjures to confuse.
His artifice; a love that may not last.
Oh, youth has flown! When we flew by our seat,
we viewed our space , high, from some mountain’s plain.
Where loose the pebbles roll beneath our feet,
Hope dangles us and leaves us for insane.
But, still, I hear his unforgotten rhyme:
I’m victim to this ploy; no fault of mine.