I remember the cold air, salted from the Bay,
The large sea lions, both young and old yell
at each other as they stand on each others ground,
Slippery wharves, their islands holding heavy harems.

I can still feel wind and see the bridge so large, it was
called Golden, Gate to the setting sun and ocean
beyond, I can still see kites colouring the gusting wind.
All dancing as men women and boys held onto each kite
like it meant harnessing the force that pulled taut their twine.

I smell and taste the food, the wine too, where the heat
rises with the land, walking among the vineyards, how
each grape tastes differently, weak brown grass blowing while
lush colours are reserved for the grapes below a wrathful sun.
  
One day I will, we will go back to see much more,
experiences and travel will be measured by senses,
teased and explored till sated, memories will be
added to the life journey, but my heart is mine,
and His, more memories will pour in and be absorbed.

Thank you San Francisco.