Hope

Hope sounds like birds twittering to each other.

Hope looks like wrapped presents.

Hope tastes like a fresh ripe strawberry.

Hope smells like a spring rain shower.

Hope feels like sitting on a porch swing watching a sunset.

I wrote this poem just over a year ago.  It's been almost three years now.  When we thought I wouldn't live to my 12th birthday. Now, I am almost 13.  I am coming up on my 16th birthday. Hope is still almost the same for me. Except now, hope is knowing that my sister will get better, even when it is hard to believe it.  Just last month, we figured out that  her brain injury is completely healed. 

I got the idea to write this because my mom found a website called (In)Courage. She kept encouraging me to publish this poem and link it to their site.

Reposted from here.