The days pass and hope begins to elute

It doesn’t get better, only worse.

How can strengths be found without hope?

Or is it still there somewhere, deep down?

We march on like dutiful little soldiers.

Holding the body straight

Giving up isn’t an option.

Where is the “food” to keep us going?

Perhaps hope is hiding in nature,

In our little companion dog?

Maybe the next morning will clear the soul?

So we keep marching, searching …

Christina