For Me....

Hope is fashioned for futures yet planned, of things we want or need, fullfillment of such, a meager demand, for me, to much the greed. Happiness rises from joy and pleasure, as a steadliy gathering stream, to drift within that flowing treasure, for me, yet mystic dream. Silence of faith impowers the week, it upholds the weary of mind, Laying to rest the sorrows we weep, for me, no solice find. Then time arrives with all his past, and present in one hand holds, set free is future, from his grasp, for me, was not bestowed. By: terry hopkins unforgiven