Hope

The dawn reveals the battered exterior,
Worn but enduring.
Lovingly and harshly displayed,
Each worn corner continues to stand,
The crumbles and cracks bared proudly.
Careful patches show their wear as
The light shines through the thin fabric.
The patches have patches; the joints are repaired.
It’s held together by string, glue, and will,
Unveiled in each stitch, seam, and nail.
How much of the original is even there?


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