HOPE ( NO. 3 )

He tossed about in his bed,
As if his life was really dead,
Slumber daily deserted him,
His future hope was very dim.

How he wanted his life to golw,
But all, in his life was very slow,
He desired to touch every zenith,
But his life was crushed beneath.

But, the rising sun's orange glow,
Plucked him out from his life's low,
Rising, he flung the sheets far away,
And ventured to handle his life's sway.

To tackle life with full energy,
And endeavour to bring synergy,
With allround effort and vigour,
Wrapped in implicit rigour.