Hopebroken

I see it: luminous and effervescent,
a mirage at the end of the reddish tunnel.
Hear it: sounds of a spinning playground
liberated with laughter which rises
and whispers past my ears,
Stepping keenly, I travel forward,
the uneven gravel littered with rocks
which graze my naked feet as I stumble
clutching at the jagged wall,
drawing heart-wrenched blood
away from my pale face.
Nearer I move, hastening now that
I can hear us talking,
envisage the fireside where
I rest my head on your shoulder
ignoring the sharpness of the bone,
turn my face to yours and
see my reflection shining back.
Folded like soft dough, the corners of your
eyes craft your bewitching smile and
cement the promises, the future that flutters
inside my bound hands.
Hesitating, I open my fingers,
gasp as its vividness stuns me,
transfixing once moving feet
to stillness.
Overwhelming in its possibility
it is incandescent, mesmeric,
precious as an unhatched egg.
It cannot be contained,
controlled, tamed and so
this glass sphere of hope
slips from my trembling
hands, splintering into shards,
that carpet the unforgiving floor.
The scent of a wish remains,
riding on particles of the air,
travelling away as the breeze
caresses and consoles me.