The Thing Without Feathers

Oh Hope, unfaithful to the very end,
Misleading us with wishes unfulfilled.
To pink and cherry whims of yours we bend;
A wall of passed-by, broken dreams we build.
“What if?” within a whispering wind you say,
Our master, we held captive by your schemes.
Two words and better judgment flies away,
So shackled by our own betraying dreams.
Distracting us with unobtainables,
With empty promises of lost-be-founds,
You keep the chemists from the factual
And optimistic pilots on the ground.
All this I know, yet still I do believe
Your warm embrace a gift gladly received.