Love Love is like a hotel holiday, With champagne dreams in an ocean spray. The rooms are warm, the pillows plush, The nights dissolve in a tender hush. But when the sunrise paints the sky, You pack your bags, you say goodbye. “Bill, please,” echoes, crisp and true— A fleeting stay, just me and you.
Life Life is like a plastic bag, Bulging seams, a makeshift swag. A treasure trove of moments tight, Gathered swiftly, held just right. But pause too long, its fibers fray, And all your keepsakes spill away. To mend it? Oh, a hopeless task— Fragile, fleeting, meant to pass.
Hate Hate is like an overcoat, Heavy, worn, a throat-tight choke. Its fabric rough, its seams sewn tight, A garment clinging, day and night. No soap, no rinse, no cleansing hands, Can wash its stains or loose its bands. A currency that drains, pretends— Forever worn, it never spends.
Hope Hope is like a kite in flight, Rising high on winds of light. Its string may strain, its frame may bend, But up it soars, without an end. Through tempests fierce, through skies of gray, It whispers softly, "Find your way." And though it falters, though it wanes, The heart still holds its tethered reins.
