Moon Lit Water Shimmering Off the Bridge of Beauty

I close my eyes and see black boots tracking across the bridge of gold
The adventurous come to walk acrossed it, the lost come to end it with one swift leap from a man made tower of lies and desperation.

It's beauty is as massive as the emotions that lead the droves across its belly. One behind the other, bumper touching bumper, horns blowing, air thick with gasoline, helicopters whizzing about, sail boat's carelessly floating by.

My heels hurt and the blisters are a reminder of my poor choice of foot wear today.

Looking up I see another suicide sign in a thicket of cameras that search the ropes of the bridge. I wonder what the person is like working behind the lens of that camera looking out for the brave and the hopeless sky diver. It's that thought of the lost one that stands there on the edge who is willing and able to end it all that touches my soul.
I am cold, it sends shivers down my back with thoughts of standing on the edge with them while the wind beats across my chest.

Cold wind rips past me as fast as the pictures snapped by tourists standing near by. People from every nation hoping to capture their moment that will go home with them along with their hope of returning.

Scarves, gloves, long wool coats, row houses, smell of crab & fish,
 fresh baked bread that hovers in the air enticing hunger yes!
Shops of every sort, water front and seals that come to visit,
street vendors, professional beggars, music so loud and crowds even bigger.

Wines poured, glasses filled, and the fragrance of grapes, soil and earth at every stop.
Lets hop along the train ride of laughter, beauty and romance and lose ourselves, even for a brief moment of what if

Palace hotel fit for a king & queen, walks for miles, hot baths, rose covered beds, doormen with whistles, rental cars, trolley rides, Polk St. three story, a city to discover on every corner,
sidewalk performers, dinner with friends, boat rides, prison visits, dinner under the water,

memories in a light house, exploring old military forts, photographers dream, remembering childhood    family that lie beneath the oak, Baudoin bread bowls filled with clam chowder, butter, an extra large coke, hot coffee, carousel ponies on the wind chilled pier, hands held, lips kissed, memories made

Another day comes, planes depart and home awaits our arrival, goodbye San Francisco until next time...