The slippery cold
At the tip of my tongue
Tastes of sunshine and warm rain.
Oranges decide to dance down my hands
Swaying onto my favorite blue shirt,
Their steps making parts of it green
As I try to enjoy the delicious marvel
While eating it as quickly as I can.
And now as I look down on that light blue shirt
In the back of my mind
I can still hear my mother's sigh
As I stepped through the door that one, humid evening
Smiling toothlessly from ear to ear
Looking like the perfect summer disaster
With just a small, wooden stick remaining as a reminder of that icy, summer treat.
About the Creator
Paulina
A writer, caught up in finding herself through a journey into learning about Spirituality.
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