Hope-May Spring went outside to sing,
And play among the flowers.
Her days were spent frolicking,
And dancing ‘way the hours,
In the sun.
One day she walked upon the stage,
To sing her song aloud.
She stepped bravely across the stage,
And sang out strong and proud:
Applause rang out through the room,
And Hope-May was o’erjoyed,
To have touched hearts within that room,
Her smile could not avoid…
Joy can’t last forever though,
And no story is so kind,
For as soon as it was time to go,
Her mother voiced her mind:
“Not the worst”.
Strangers praised her performance,
Yet her mother looked on sternly.
Her songs could never seem to dance,
Their way in mother’s heart to free…
Through the years she heard no praise;
Nor laud. Nor compliment.
And soon she felt her mother’s gaze,
Was always there and sent…
Ah, that voice was always there.
Always echoing: “Never enough!”,
Until the joy she used to share,
Sang out soft and gruff;
Her joy, her mother ate it all;
Served with criticism and jeers.
Hope-May ate the meals all,
And swallowed down her tears…
Hope-May Spring used to sing.
It’s said she sang quite well;
Though now she does not like to sing,
Nor does she ever tell…
Of her heart.
Though sometimes she dreams secretly,
Of those days so long ago,
When her heart was given joyously,
And hope could freely flow;
From her veins.
Hope-May Spring will sometimes sing,
And smile vacantly;
Though if you listen to her sing,
You’ll hear a sad and desperate plea:
“Where is Hope?”.
K. Aldaya, 7/13/17