Hope- is Poetry to my Ears

meadowFor all those who work at Neuren, worked at Neuren, have anything to do with Neuren, poetry is the best way I know to say what prose cannot really express.

N ow I come on bended knee with

E xtended hand and grateful tears,

U nbelieving that the journey we are on,

R arely resting through the years,

E ver stumbling over stone and wall,

N ears, finally a grass-lined bend,

.

P ast shadows of mountains, straight and tall.

H ope is shining down upon us

A s we turn from the rocky road,

R eaching, at last, a place to rest-

M other and child unshouldering  our load.

A sk me then- Why do you weep, as

C arefree, for a moment, all must seem?-

E ase has settled in my worried heart and

U nder my journeying feet, the grass is green.

T omorrow holds Promise, whereas yesterday was bleak.

I have dreamed this dream so many times;

C an mere words express a mother’s gratitude?

A sk me then- Why do you sigh?-

L et your wonderings all cease-

S uch a hopeful sigh for where our journey leads.

.

M. Lancaster

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