Hope, a fragile whisper, floats on a gentle breeze,
Its wings alight with dreams and endless possibilities.
A beacon of solace, a flame that cannot be denied,
It lifts the spirit, igniting fires deep inside.

Yet close beside, with solemn stride,
Dwells the ghost of sorrow, a tempest's tide.
With somber hues and tears that softly weep,
It wraps its arms around, a melancholic sweep.

Hope sings of skies unbound, of futures bright and grand,
While sorrow mourns what's lost, a heart in heavy...