I climb the stairs of hope in days
Where there I see a treasure box
There I meet my fortune of life
But I know treasure may be far away
Still climb the stairs of hope
The steps are made up of silver ones
The handrails are made by pure gold
In the heights I expect an easy way
An escape route from real world of life
I looks above the stairs, in hope
Where nicety of hopes may welcome me
A long walk of terrain I have passed
A forward looking human I am
Still I make confusion of thought
And try to climb the ladder of hope.
Poem by Gangadharan nair Pulingat
Never give up. Never lose hope.
Hang in there.