The Scent of Yellow

Smell resides in my memory

on a tightrope slicked in oil

as it slides into a place

only imagination can keep it -

Where imagination can look at the color

of the world and smell.

Imagination takes yellow into its hand

the kind of yellow the sky turns

as the sun sets behind trees, fading

into pink.

She will bring it to her face,

feel a glow of warmth as it kisses

her cheeks - and taste honey.

She smells a subtle sweetness left by bees,

the ones covered in fresh pollen

weaving in-between flower fields.

She will smell yellow,

its scent that of the sun

on hot sand and taste salt

the same salt that clings to my eyelashes

at the loss of smell

before they drop in goodbye.

Imagination joins memory, hands outreached

offering the gift to smell

the colors of the world.