without recolection

I can’t write.  I can’t write about something i have no recolection of

A walk through the Woods where time stood still and

A waterfall that was the background to the beginning of

A story  that ended prematurely.

I can’t speak. I can’t speak about unfinished culinary projects

Red wine and italian food as starters for amazing nights and

 Desserts that came to be due to

lots of imagination and desire.

I can’t smell.  I can’t smell bouquets of flowers

Lilies and tulips that were never sent and

Chocolates which should have been eaten

Just to stop other cravings

And I can’t Imagine. I can’t imagine a life where

Woods and waterfalls didn’t evoke an image of beauty and

Wine and deserts didn’t bring out  flavours of perfection and

Tulips and chocolates didn’t create a scent of  perpetuity.

But l can’t write nor speak about any of it… I have no recolection.