Sometimes things
only happen at the very end,
things like this poem, which came to me
as I was pushing open my front door
having returned from my morning walk.

Even things like hope for the future
can come at the end, weathered by time,
grown lean and fit through a long life
of trying and failing.

Then the hopes that remain are true hopes,
a collaboration between life experience,
trust and belief, not based on selfishness,
fantasy or denial, they aren’t even something
you can benefit from yourself, but still,
they’re a beautiful gift for your grandchildren.

DF. 18-2-2021 1465

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