Knock. Knock.
Who’s there?
Orange.
Orange, who?
Orange colored sherbert
On a hot summer day.
Orange colored push-ups
Easing the heat away.
Cold sticky sunshine
Bought for a song
Trickles down fingers
Into a palm.
Orange puddle bread crumbs
Fall to the street
Melting little by little
On clothing and feet.
Knock. Knock.
Who’s there?
Orange.
Orange you glad its summer?
my mother is a fiber artist. her art consists of mixtures of fiber and metal and she was entering a piece into a show that had to be tied to a poem. i wrote this for her piece and she won some sort of prize for it.
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