Constants

These are things that I know:

The smell of cut grass; lilacs; bacon; vanilla; coffee
The sound of my father's voice
The feel of asphalt beneath my feet; feathers against my palm; mud between my toes; pages between my fingers
The taste of a chocolate chip cookie
Sunlight against my skin while my eyes are closed
The dappled light that hits the grass beneath a tree
Green in all its forms
Written words which I can return to time and time again

And the ache of knowing:
there is something I have lost; something I will never touch.