Extravagant Hope Poem by Kong Yin

Solitude, you're in a trance again,
sitting under the lamp, furrowing your brow,
like a young lady, graceful and enigmatic.
Who are you waiting for?

The street lights are dimming,
shadows no longer swaying on ice,
those expected have arrived -
they were but a few regulars -
poetry, evening breeze, aroma of chrysanthemum, and fireflies.

Sleep Solitude,
no more waiting.
Heavy footsteps echo in the distance,
people traversing ruins.
They will never cast a glance at the light
flickering in your window.