The Fight

she grasped on

holding, holding

her grip never wavering

her grip on the hope

that one day

perhaps

the fight would be worth it

her father said

'hope is the most important'

her mother said

'it is harder to gain than it is to keep'

as she stood by the world

hoping, hoping

never letting go

but the years dragged by

and her hands became tired

she said

'what good is hope if nothing comes of it?'

slowly, her hands loosened their grip

and it slid through her fingers like sand

on the shore

and she watched the sand intertwine on the beach

with the sand of others

the hope let slip past their aging fingers

into the ocean.

it is harder to gain than it is to keep.

Author's Note

Written December 2007.

Reviews

[мalғy]

I like the way you repeated the words, making sure to point out she was putting up a fight I like it!