poetinside

I wish there were more words that rhyme with orange.

That pesky hue.

That rebellious shade.

That defies any attempt to shroud it in poetic verse.

The heat of midday as it cuts through my freshly-wiped windows and sets the bottom half of my calves on fire.
The smell of the disinfectant that allows the sun to penetrate that glass unhindered.
The stickiness of the fruit between the skin of my fingers and the beds of my nails.
Those cheerful strands at the crown of your forehead that stand out in stark contrast to the rest, that beg to be curled between my thumb and forefinger.

This day is orange.

I wish there were more words that rhyme with orange.