Wishful Thinking

Wishful thinking,
hope unblinking,
wary wondering what’s in store
saved me, wrought me,
hard-way taught me
sometimes hope just leaves a sore.
Look upon a man sat with folded hands.
Who knows what he’s waiting for?
I’m rethinking
that darn finking
and hoodwinking
wishful thinking.

I get tired,
days when living is a chore.
I might turn in,
trade my earnings;
I can’t hold out anymore.
When you’re at your end
here’s to you, my friend,
when you long for something more.
Glasses clinking,
people drinking:
bless that blinking
wishful thinking.