Facing the West,
I watch the sun drop into the Pacific,
watch the sun light San Francisco as it falls,
its last rays glittering on the towering eucalyptus that frame my view.
Suddenly – a wave of grief:
a balmy summer night
on the shore of Lake Michigan,
my brown summer arms
swinging from the top of a Ferris Wheel.
I sniff languid air,
float above the beat of music,
young people dancing at my feet.
Suddenly –
I return to the darkened room
in which I sit.
The memory, gone.
The grief: remains.
Mary Elyn Bahlert, 5/2020
