Vanished Romance

When the moon feeds
on the residue
of a dying fireball,

I replenish my thoughts
with the wicks of a zillion candles–
extending from the canopy
of a dark night

before the moon is blindfolded
by the beams of a rising sun,

and my dreams, crumble
in the working hours,
snuffed by heavy feet,
rushing to make ends meet.

An encounter

Last night I saw a full moon

embellished in the jewelery of gold,

upfront in a backdrop; black,

as it poured its beams

which it deemed right

to negate the dark.

Intent on hiding the truth

an evil cloud threw a curtain

of gloom over the face of the moon.

It wasn’t yet doom

as I could see some resolute

silvery patches resurfacing

the murky scene

every now and then,

before burying deep by the

vastly obscure skies.

The clouds laughed a malicious thunder,

while someone shed tears of sympathy.