In Memory of Alexander Lowenstein by Janice Cunningham

Beachgrass, as if frozen, stands still
and lethargic waves crash
slowly...
Alex, I think they miss you - they
whisper
your name - but somehow I know
you're always with them forever.

___________________________

You were always the sunshine...
but the sun hasn't set for you, Alex
my friend -
it has only risen
on another
beach.