by Kronin Wanderforth

Desire makes hoping
time to sing the birds
of happy life.  I
looked into her black 
black eyes and
dreamed the thinking
of hope. only when
I opened my eyes
the image was gone.
I shift the hope of 
anger to lonely.
I still see the
anger in her eyes.
I wish I could make
the dream as big as all 
the world beyond my head.