Last Image

author's note:

Where is the ordinary man, the ordinary woman I’ve heard people speak of?

I’ve never met such a person.


LAST IMAGE

In the dream
I walked with her
though she ascended a hill many miles
away from mine:

I saw her as a distant silhouette.

But then, as she reached the summit
a beam from the golden sunset
lit her small frame:
she became a candle flame--
flaring up
then sinking down, the next instant.
The scene, suddenly dark.

In the morning
someone I sort of know
told me she had died.

Now when I think of her
I remember that last image

and so
I no longer see her life
in shades of gray and beige.

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© 2022, Michael R. Patton