That I find myself hopeful, again.
When all the other sentences have bled to an end.
Every other misery ended a misery.
All the world sent me sliding again,
out to the wild, wind fiercer, rivers rushing.
Every glimmer of gold turned out to be another,
duller metal, I caught the reflection of myself,
and counted myself rotten, felt forgotten,
but I'm here again, hopeful.
Catching the glimmer, beneath the surface,
across a table.