Hope is the remaining string on the harp.
Hope is a coin found in a pocket.
Hope is the final throw that wins all back again.
Hope is rain after the flames have passed.

Hope is a baby's sigh as it falls asleep in your arms.
Hope is the stroke of midnight,
Tolling out the end of Today
And calling in Tomorrow.

Hope makes no promises,
But mends them like we do a treasured toy.
Hope waits, measures and consoles
With gentle words and kindly actions.

Sometimes Hope is hidden from us.
In the Dark of our own imagination,
We may not see its bright rays
Piercing the gloom.

Hope never leaves us.
It is always there, just within reach
Of a questing heart
And a spirit made strong.

Hope wraps around us
Like a shawl of rainbows,
Changing the colours of our thoughts
And lighting the path to our dreams.