seethingblue's Diaryland Diary

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orange

she is writing

another poem about orange.

it never leaves her,

it only goes to bed.

she watched a preview

for the movie sylvia,

and then crept down

the lighted stairs,

only aware of two feet ahead

and the whispering ushers.

she thinks of christmas

when she hears the word orange.

she thinks of soft socks

and envelopes licked with care.

a fawn was frozen on the shoulder

of the road,

tried to jump through the wire fence

and all she could do was stare in shock.

she snapped picture of spiders and riverbeds and walked on the porch of a house where soldiers were killed.

and all she thought was orange, how unusual in nature, how precious when seen, how much we long to pocket things we love, keep and contain them, and all they do is search for escape.

23:53 - 29 September, 2003

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