Gray sidewalks bearing gray faces
drowning in ocean of overcast.
Forgotten buildings soar above the herd,
broken litter dotting the street,
brown trees with browner leaves scattered
every block or three but there—
an orange.
Citrus sun soaking in its own limelight,
a sphere so round where no foot nears.
Bathing in its sugary sweetness,
juices packed within its peel as if to
show the whole city just how much
gravity
a little flesh can have.
This orange will never succumb to that fate
for which it was plucked.
It will bask there,
sugars teeming under bright skin until
it bursts into sunshine,
splashing the cityscape gold,
sparking the buildings with fire,
igniting a little dance in every
homeward bound soul.
Shimmering streaks whistling through the clouds
setting the whole universe ablaze
with light and warmth and
life.
All that from a little
city orange.