Progression

My hope lies beneath my breast
in a hollow dark and deep
cavern made of cherry wood.

I shelter it with intertwined hands
from brushing winds and
splashing waves so

you cannot see it burning there,
nor hear it speak and shout
its dreams,

but when it’s formed an outer layer
of time that’s long gone by,
the heat may become too much to bear
and it will be seen by all who pass by.

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