
Last Monday, my poem took on the sweet smells and tastes of the season with apples and spice and everything nice. Today, instead of writing a poem about something tangible or tasty, I’ve taken on something that lives only in the heart and mind–something unthinkable to lose, but when this is yours, you’ll hold it, knowing you have something precious. Welcome to hope.

HOPE
Hope blooms like petals, unfurling in spring.
Hope enters gently from
an act of kindness.
Hope finds its birth in a wish upon a star.
Hope appears in the words
of a promise.
Hope finds its way
on a fresh path.
Hope grows from,
“I love you.”
Hope begins with
a first step.
Hope finds comfort
in a hug.
Hope heals after
“I’m sorry.”
Hope listens
harder.
Hope
waits.
by
Leslie Leibhardt Goodman
I’ll see you here next Friday for another Autumn-perfect picture book review.
Leslie