Crimson memory // by Georgia M. (April 2018)

Screams of applause, a dark stadium.
Flickering lights now dying,
Red and white flying away,
Leaving us in the night.
Night, where that cold, hollow feeling
Settles in and stays.
The band retreats;
The music is over.
And now there’s nothing.
Nothing left of the event but the memory.
But with a flutter and a flourish
Fall the red bits of streamer.
And I catch one.
A scrap so thin,
I can see my palm through it.
But it’s enough to remember by.
I grab one more.
Gently clinging to the precious memory,
I can leave in peace.