The Orange Tree

Artwork by Haidar Art

The last kiss that you and I shared still lingers on my lips like the taste of a tangerine, citrus everlasting. And how I long for another taste, sweet delicacy, a kiss, one that lacks urgency, one exempt of the empty, sore ache of knowing it will be our last for awhile. And when I close my eyes to rest at night, I dream of balmy summer days and noon rays in our hair, salty beads of sweat dripping down off of our foreheads, dewy grass, an azure sky, and an orange tree. We lay atop the verdant grass, beneath the comfortable shade of the orange tree, that bears the delectable fruit and labor of our love. In this honey oasis of ours, we each pluck a fruit from the swelling tree. Sweet and tart, juice drip down our chins and into the grass beneath. I glance over at you, happily peeling away at your orange. In that moment of ours, I cannot possibly think of a single thing that I would change, except to be right next to you.