Hope

It's her voice on the line,
It's the good morning message,
Little things, that equal,
Something sweet, something pure.

Its the understanding the heartbreak,
And the longing left to linger,
An ear for the complaints,
And a shoulder for the tears.

So long it has been since I felt like myself,
So long I have been what others needed me to be,
And now it's like being reborn,
To the man I could have been.

There is hope neath the pain,
In her voice, in her eyes,
There is strength that remains,
When all else is stripped away.

I cannot say where my road will lead,
Though history tells me I will take the hard one,
But hope springs like flowers along my path,
And her voice urges me on though my soul is weary.

Quincy Tatum
January 1, 2012