The Throes Of Hope

Amidst the throes of hope,

Weak yellow flames gutter.

Wishes that dance on lips,

Pleading tongues that stutter.

These words fall upon stone,

Bounce, and vainly flutter.

Dreams encased in steel,

Taut traps that do not mutter.

The quiet footfalls of promise,

Suddenly clang and clatter.

The profile of expectation,

That sunshine cannot flatter.

Our fortunes’ gradual thinning,

While others’ grows fatter.

Spend it while you can,

For in the end it does not matter.

© M.H.