Hope Climbed

Once upon a time I saw:
hope climbing jagged crags,
while our eyes were lowered to its reality.
Our life was a garden
longing for footsteps,
a short journey
in unhitched sleeping-cars.
Once upon a time I saw:
the doorstep moving to meet
the weary body of the traveller,
a hand lowered to the clothes on the chair,
a bird landing on the dust on the lampshade
seeking attention.
A hope
was climbing towards the roof of the house
and no one woke to throw a stone at it.