Yes: the scent, the flavor, life is real:
Even when we cannot recall the way we used to feel.
Yes: the taste, the texture, and the bite,
The life in what is living, and the warmth in what is light.
For food, like rhythm, finds us where we are:
Like flashlights when confronted by a star,
The contrast’s sharp; we quickly, then, arrive
At knowing what it is to be alive.
Yes: the moments make up all there is,
With open eyes, in full mydriasis,
We take in yes the moment and the day;
The instant we would grasp