Dark Hope

on mopey skies
the moon sails,
dangling november stars,
so dimly-lit.

soon, darkness would conquer,
wash them off
sea's reflection.

under weeping clouds
i stand alone,
counting hopes--
one...twain...still so faint.

Just your Silhouette

how many shadows brushed past,
how long was that,
since the last glimpse of light
which blinded my sight,
finely captured;
closely reminisced
in my memory bank-
i realized in the end,
it's a deceiving phantasm,
just your silhouette
unmoved,
stagnant in my heart woes-