Flight        

As the new year began, you took flight
from this world and left me in it.
Alone.
The day that had come up like a sheet of rolled iron
turned dark,
like the lights that go down in a theater
when the interval is over
and the last act is about to begin,
or when daylight slips into dusk,
the birds go quiet
and the mouse of doubt gnaws at you.
Once, I imagined I would never lose my way.
Now I’m searching in a dark and unfamiliar room
for a switch that can bring back the light.
I may find it someday…
but it won’t be today.

paul Bluestein is a physician (done practicing) and a blues musician (still practicing). He lives in Connecticut near a beach where he finds quiet time to think about the past, and wonder about the future. In addition to poems and short stories that have appeared in a wide variety of online and print publications, he has had two books of poetry published – TIME PASSAGES in 2020 and FADE TO BLACK in 2021.