The Triumph of Hope


Always the same:  you think a holiday
will set you up  -  transform your winter skin
from withered tones of elephantine grey
to sun-blushed apricot.  It seems a sin
to by-pass cut-price deals  -  the country inn
with Michelin star, or coral island, prey
to rich and famous  -  and the drink’s all-in.
Yes, it’s a good idea to get away.

OK, the sestet:  what’ve you guessed?  how fate
buggers it up by squeezing till it’s gone,
crushed into pulp?  Wrong, actually.  Fulfilled,
restored, sun-burnished, we can’t wait
to go again  -  seas sparkled and suns shone,
and nothing went off course.  Yes  -  we were thrilled.


D. A. Prince


If you have any comments on this poem, D. A. Prince would be pleased to hear from you.

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