Colors are molded in my mind as I hear the world around me.

Numbers, letters, and shades of rainbow that I have never seen before

mold in my mind as the crisp wildfires run through my ears.

“Crackle, hiss, pop.”

Flavor pours into the flows of water that drizzle in my mind 

when I hear the long awaited waterfall at the end of a hike

I can go to a distant place in which I see unicorns and mermaids

and the dark place in which solace is built through winter. 

I can see all the candy in the world that an eight year old imagines

and I can see all the tools built into a workshop of my dad, a tradesman’s dream.

I can feel pouring hot lava touch my bones as I envision myself as Lava Girl,

and I can feel cold rain showers as an explorer going through the jungle

“tap, tap, tap.”

I feel the calluses on my fingers grow extra thick 

providing proof of the over excess amount of hours I waste away 

Slamming heavy weights in the gym.

“Pound, bang, boom.”

I can feel the light touch of the new golden retriever puppies bright baby fur

And the scratchy feel of their sandpaper tongues on my teenage face.

I smell a fresh roll of sourdough bread like the baker down the road.

And the sweet smell of the fall morning wind arriving

when I walk out my door to leave for school on a cool crisp day. 

“Swoosh, whoosh, whirl.” 

I smell the sweet smell of a hot bubble bath calling my name 

and the brand new bath bomb I bought at lush foaming in the perfectly warm water.”

“Sizzle, crackle, pop.”

I smell the bright scent of the rainbow 

after a long cool storm on a golf course 

In which the flowers start to bloom and the colors arrive

indicating spring has made its way here after the long winter.

I taste the sweet of my mother’s fresh cooking 

And the craftiness of her new recipe book 

which grandma gave her under the Christmas Tree.

I taste the savoriness of the first meal after a long drive

where Culver’s burgers never tasted better

and a diet coke has never felt so refreshing.

I taste the thirst quenching music oozing in my mouth 

when I turn on my first Pink Floyd song after a long while. 

And the metallic taste in my mouth after a long workout 

jamming to Metallica, ACDC, and Punisher.

“FUELLLLL, WHEN I BURN, FUEL IS PUMPING ENGINES…”

I feel the warmth of my baby blanket I’ve had for years comforting me after the storm

and the cold air rush to my deep red skin when I walk in the door 

after being in the hot sum–-

–“Maggie, Maggie, Maggie!”

“What mom?”

“Take your AirPods out, it’s time for dinner.”