I never knew a scent’s command
Upon the reels of memory

The door
Towers above you
Grand. Majestic.
Carved ornate motifs in gilded wood
and metal
and marble all around
inviting you into its world.

Wind upon my face, and in my ears
the roar
and my hands gripping a horn.
The air smells fresh and sweet
with notes of barbecue —
a scent from long ago.

The rain is coming
The rain is coming

I see the concrete darken
and glisten
I feel a gentle breeze
cool my skin
I smell that grassy smell
which heralds rain
I hear a pitter-patter
drizzle-drazzle
[…]

The words are
infinite
even to say the simplest thing
(To express — to speak — to tell)
And yet
of infinite choices no one is equal.