Monday, December 12, 2016

He took the morning in his hands


He took the morning in his hands and said it was an orange.
I’d never seen one peeled that way. He offered me a slice of daylight.
I remember the way it felt on my tongue. Papa, I said, Tell me,
Is this really the sun? He laughed. Yes, he said, As long
As we’re young. He peeled it up. He peeled it down.
He peeled a house. He peeled a home. He peeled
And peeled, and then he was gone.



2 comments:

Jan/JFM said...

Beautiful and sad, William...sunny and gray...tis' life~

William Michaelian said...

It is indeed, Jan, and the old orange tree is still producing. Thank you....