PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

In the summer of '82,

I came to you in the

steaming heat of

a southern sun.

Until that moment,

my orange lipstick was the

only bright spot in my life.

Your skin was copper-toned

from the salt and sun,

you were burnt orange.



You offered an orange.

You put your finger through the skin,

and I could hear it, smell it,

squeeze it, and taste the

familiar sweet juice.



By the end of day

I was poppy-mango with orange lips.

The cantaloupe sunset

and shimmering dusk

caught me completely

unaware, and the cinnamon

reflections were dazzling.



We could not resist the comfort of

warm sands and phosphorescent foam

of incoming waves on a steamy southern shore.