Orange

Orange

In the deepest part of Orange
our childish spirits dwell.
We run through carotene fields
with flowing sienna grass,
we pick marigolds and smell hyacinths
along the citrus path.

Awareness splashes our senses
in a warm mandarin river.
All is new, as children we see,
our experience is carefree.

Through tangarine trees a soft
apricot sun never sets.
And always, happily, we swim,
we splash, in a carnelian sea,
never knowing more than Orange.

MJM