Then Beggars Might Ride (Poem)

if wishes were horses
then beggars might ride
and dreams crystal bright wings
then children might glide

if love was a blanket
you'd never be cold
and want was a fountain
we'd never grow old

perhaps fear is a darkness
and shrivels in light
and hate a hot fever
with hearts wound too tight

but hope is a genie
and grants to all, all things
blessing beggars with horses
and children with wings