je ne sais quoi

the meal, French

the sunset and the light,

all about Tuscany;

a combination admittedly

difficult to put into words

but, heady with wine

and love, we tried—

speaking long into

the night, recapping

a holiday not to be

forgotten; the fields of

sunflowers near Nice

turning their heads as

if just for us, and not the sun;

the scent of the tiny éclairs—

we never can recall their

names— in that tiny place

near Vence; the art, oh

the art—too hard to pick

favourites but the

Pieta still brings tears—

groping for words,

a phrase, something—

Of course—leave it to the

French

je ne sais quois

S.E.Ingraham©