It’s funny how our minds work.
When I was in fourth grade, we had a poetry reading and we each had to memorize a poem and read it to our class. I chose a random poem by Emily Dickinson that I thought sounded nice. The poem compared hope to a bird and, to this day, I still remember the first and last verses.
I just find it funny that I can remember a poem from 9 years ago but I can barely remember what day it is.
Hope is a thing with feathers
That perches in the soul
And sings a song without the words
And never stops at all.
I’ve heard it in the strangest land
And on the wildest sea
But never in extremity
Did it ask a crumb of me.