Denise and the Low Sun

I want to feel light again.

Something cottony

like a cloud.

Something sweet

but mildly

like icing sugar.

I don't get that feeling anymore.

I don't know her name

or how to reach her.

I remember her though—

a specific sunlight.

A glare of pink, orange, purple, and blue.

Running to catch the bus.

Blades of grass growing though

the scalloped gaps in a brick pavement.

Laughter even though I am late. And it was my fault.

The smell of vinyl from our school-issued book bags.

Someone who loves me.

It was dizzying.

Diffused like a dream.

A mist in my reality

I tried not to break.

And maybe that's

"just life".

Losing things permanently.

The inability to archive.

Windows from a shard of sunlight.

Maybe that's just life.