walking around, and tasting the hanging fruit from the bright green tree, shining bright in winter’s orange sun, but they are so bitter.
orange j̶u̶i̶c̶e̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶n̶t̶e̶r̶ sun
mom used to wake me up in the morning at 6am, with a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.
fresh orange, we used to buy after going away to the countryside, to a house shared between nine siblings.
nine siblings that never went back, and all that is left is a dry swimming pool and a few dusty glasses.
glasses once filled with freshly squeezed orange juice shared among nine siblings.
but they are bitter, oranges in the winter are sour and bitter.
27.09.23 Edition of 75 - Copies Available