when my pear tastes like lying in a hammock feels
when the inside of my stomach is twisted like a highway from laughing with you
when my only thought in the morning is to lay in the sun my porch so willingly provides
when the raindrop hits my cheek in the right place
must I wonder why?
how nonsensical to boil down life's sensations to questions
should there exist a reason that we feel love? or is feeling it the very heart of why it exists? feelings and warmth and unfamiliarity these days. you must know how very young I feel here. sometimes I miss my Nana playing the piano on the other end of the brick house. that was long ago.
I am a curious woman. I wonder about every ounce. I am in constant pursuit of a ripe explanation.
I am a scientist.
In periods such as these
In trees this tall
In mug's this hot
In spice stores
In warm company
In pain
In hope
In confusion
Love
Joy
Ache
In quietness
need I ask why?
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