The color, the fruit
…the color of the fruit
The word, orange
It used to be called yellowred
One word not two
Things change
Her favorite color was orange
Can you guess her favorite fruit?
She mastered the fine art
Of peeling the skin
In one whole piece
Slowly she would push
Her slender fingers into
The center and divide
Sharing with me the slices
We would watch the sun set
Yellowred on the horizon
She would peel off the
Hard, uncompromising
Of my outer self
Leaving me raw but whole
She carefully removes
The remaining pith
Slowly, she would push
Herself into my center
And force me to divulge
The secrets of my inner self
Wet and sticky
We share the slices
Bitter and sweet
We plant the seeds
She…squeezes
We entwine
Orange, the unrhymable word…
The subject of this post, “orange”, was suggested to me by Ivy:) See this post for more details.
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