What is it about the sky
And the angle of the sun
And a flower blossom
Pale yellow against pale blue?
And the paradox of a small blue artefact of light
Bringing both weightlessness and ballast?
And why do I suddenly remember
A mere smudge of lipstick long gone from my cheek?
And a smell that isn’t there
And the feeling of finally filling my skin
And the balance of it all?