hope

my first genuine poem, a trial run if you will

a rustling of trees in the wind
the final lament of crickets
an ombré of darkness painting the sky
the sun making its final stand
and losing

the cool kiss of wind
along a shuddering body
icy air filling empty lungs
a full heart enclosed by emptiness
and a single, bright star blinking dully
showing that even when
the light fades
and dark smothers

hope can be found again in just
one
faint
glimmer