What is it, the word that means the smell of rain washing the heat from the earth?
Or the remembrance of the stickiness of a melting popsicle as it drips down your arm?
Perhaps it is similar to the word that means where to hide with your own thoughts.
Is there a name for the color of sunlight when it seeps through the boughs of a lilac bush?
Or a term for the time before you are no longer fully asleep but not completely awake?
What do you call that moment between hope and despair?
Can a word capture the feel of her hand as it slips through yours to take her first steps?
Has science named the fragrance that is the memory of your mother’s perfume?
Or the taste that lingers on the tongue after a lover’s kiss?
And if there were words to describe these, would they lose their magic forever?