Hope

The Holy Grail, destination of the quest and answer to their prayer

Sits clear upon the table though narrowed eyes of steel seem yet unaware

As they posture  pose and postulate  point fingers in demand

And the table top reverberates to the slap of angry hand

The future sits in silence  unremarked, misunderstood

When an outstretched arm, a proffered palm, could offer naught but good

And if their hands might meet and meld across that false divide

Should lesser men ignore that hope at least they know they tried

By Ranger CR

Website: https://redavons.uk