I love the sound of crinkly paper
as I turn the pages of an old book,
the smell in the air when it rains,
the feel of the first flower petals
that bloom in the spring.
I love to look at the photographs
of my parents when they were children,
when they had their whole lives ahead of them.
The taste of my grandma's Mississippi Mud cake
that she used to make for me for my birthday.
Oh, to make sense of it all.
